Butterfly in Reverse
by fancyjules
Summary: FINISHED! Claire's 19, living the perfect life as a college student in NYC. But in the summer after her freshman year, her world is turned upside down by a secret admirer who won't stay a secret forever. AU, ensemble cast, Paire
1. Prologue: Still a Firefly

**Title**: Butterfly in Reverse (0/10)  
**Author:** hazelnutcoffee12, hazelnutcoffee on lj  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count:** 554  
**Pairing/Character**: Paire, ensemble  
**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to NBC, Tim Kring, etc. I only wish I owned this show.  
**Summary**: Claire's world is turned upside down in the summer after her freshman year of college when she stays in New York City to do research and gets far more than she bargained for.  
**Spoilers/Warnings**: mostly canon - up to 1x14 _Distractions_ - before veering off. AU in regards to Claire's age and the identity of her bio-dad.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** First and foremost, thanks for reading! I have a detailed outline plotted out and the story should be a total of 10 chapters, posted about once a week (hopefully sooner but I'm a busy lady and college is hard, y'all!!). I'm really excited about my first multi-chapter story in a u long /u time so help me out and leave reviews so I know how it's going.

A few logistical things:

1. _Butterfly in Reverse_ is set two years in the future from Heroes season 1 (ie: 2008).  
2. It is canon up until 1.14: _Distractions_, and then veers off.  
3. Nathan is NOT Claire's father.  
4. Claire was 17 and in her senior year at the time of _Homecoming_ (and all the other episodes) since her being 15/16 doesn't make sense to me. I've placed her birthday in May, which means she turned 18 at the end of her senior year and 19 at the end of her freshman year of college … when this story is set.

**Prologue: Still a Firefly**

_You looked like my mother did, when she was 19 and not afraid to die. I started planning our future – you were just 19 and still a firefly._

_-- Firefly, Rhett Miller featuring Rachael Yamagata_

thursday may 1: 10:19 am

He hates this. Hates the sun, the noise, the obnoxious children surrounding him. It's a summer like spring day and the park is full of happy mothers and their little brats, of energetic people running and walking and jogging, of love-sick couples strolling the worn paths.

Everything about reading on a bench in Washington Square Park makes him squirm but he's here anyway because he dreamed of this park and this bench and this sunlight and he's never been led astray by a dream before.

He wears too many layers for the balmy May weather but he's never been a fan of the light or the warm weather. He ignores the strange looks he's getting from the people passing him and keeps his focus on the book he is reading.

It's a genetics book and it's so wrong on so many levels that he is amazed the author found a publisher that would allow this crap to be put in print. The author's theories seem to be based on nothing but pure fanciful divination and the only reason the man is still reading it is for the entertainment it is providing him.

Nothing amuses him more than other people's shortcomings.

The sun glares particularly brightly through the trees and the man rises from the bench, looking for a shadier part of the park to continue reading in. He's waiting for a sign, for the reason he's here to become apparent and he can't help but feel impatient. He canvases the park with his eyes, seeing only patches of bright light, and his attention is diverted from park benches to one of the many runners that has passed him already today.

The girl looks to be around 18 or 19 and her long golden curls are pulled back into a ponytail as she races past mothers pushing carriages and children feeding pigeons. She's wearing an old Vote Petrelli t-shirt and her lean legs pump steadily to a beat only she can hear, provided by the iPod attached to her arm. She's beautiful in a way that takes her blonde hair and blue eyes and makes it something more and the man instantly knows this is why he is here.

It is nothing short of pure fate that they are in the same place at the same time, once again.

He follows her out of the park, hustling and slightly out of breath as she runs through the narrow New York streets. She slows in front of a drab building with a purple NYU banner blowing softly in the breeze and runs in place for a few moments before stopping completely and stretching. Various people come and go from the building, some passing her by, others waving hello.

The girl remains oblivious to his presence as he leans against the building across the street. He is not surprised at her ignorance. He perfected the art of melting into the background years ago, is skilled at blending in, and he would not have it any other way.

"This is destiny, Claire Bennet," the man whispers as he watches Claire enter her dorm building and disappear from his sight. He makes note of the location of Claire's dorm and walks down a dark alley adjacent to it. "And soon we will be together, just like fate has intended."


	2. Chapter 1: Best of What's Around

CHAPTER ONE: Best of What's Around

_Well, she ran up into the light surprised. Her arms are open, her mind's eye is seeing things from a better side than most can dream. On a clearer road I feel, oh you could say she's safe…_

_-- Best of What's Around, Dave Matthews Band_

tuesday may 6: 7:02 pm

Claire Bennet celebrates her 19th birthday with two separate and distinct parties.

The first is at a bar downtown with her college friends. Claire bats her eyelined eyes at the bouncer and flashes a fake ID he barely looks at. Once inside, she drinks margaritas and forgets that tequila is her enemy and after dancing on the bar, she gets sick in the bathroom and her friends have to call Peter to help her home. The other is a much calmer event – for the most part - at Isaac's studio apartment. None of the people that come bearing gifts are blood related but they are everyone that Claire claims as family.

As Claire sits at Isaac's dining room table with a silly tiara on her head that Peter made her wear, she looks around at the mismatched group and grins broadly. It has taken some time for the entire group to settle in the city that never sleeps and even more to get reacquainted with a normal lifestyle after a few months of Heroism and the ultimate disappearance of Sylar. He and Peter had had a show down, complete with blood, sweat, and tears, and Sylar had retreated into the night, badly hurt, never to be heard from again. Afterwards, it took a while to find a rhythm and pattern that involved normal jobs, group dinners, occasional reasons to celebrate and only a bit of the old fear. For some, like Hiro, settling into such a routine has been hard (he still makes Ando ride the subways occasionally, looking for damsels in distress or suspicious activity) while others, like Niki and DL, have relished the under-the-radar way of life New York City affords.

Claire just enjoys having a family she can actually rely on.

Hiro gets up from the table and starts to bring the first of the dishes into the kitchen. "Hey Micah!" calls Hiro to the group's only other teenager. "Can you go make some coffee?"

Micah gets up from his place between his parents and runs over to the coffee machine. Tapping it twice, it sputters to life and soon the aroma of coffee fills the large apartment.

"You're the best, little man," Hiro grins from his place at the sink and he reaches a wet hand to rub his hair, leaving soap suds and drenched hair in his wake. Micah looks left and then right and a slow smile grows on his face.

"Uh-oh," says Matt from across the room. "I know what you're thinking Micah and it's a bad -"

Too late. Micah grabs the nearest food substance - a handful of Claire's birthday cake -and throws it in Hiro's direction. It hits him square on the back. The older man turns around and his round face forms an 'o' of surprise.

"FOOD FIGHT!" Hiro yells gleefully, looking like he has waited his whole life to yell such a thing.

At first, there is stunned silence, soon replaced by absolute pandemonium and before long, everyone is laughing and throwing the nearest food at anything that moves.

Before Claire can even get her hands on anything, she manages to get peas smushed in her hair, courtesy of Ando. She squeals in disgust but he's gone by the time she recuperates enough to get even. Claire scans the room, looking for him but finds an even better victim instead. Across the room, she sees that Mohinder looks entirely too clean. Still dressed in his suit from his lecture earlier (he's a genetics professor at NYU because old habits die hard and he can further his research on the List in accordance with the Human Genome Project without attracting too much attention), he is standing at the edge of the room and observing the chaos.

"HIRO!" Claire yells. "Mohinder looks a little clean." Hiro nods and smiles and by the time Claire has blinked, Hiro is across the room with a pie in Mohinder's face.

"Hey," Mohinder splutters through layers of pie. "No using your powers to get outside sources of food!"

Everyone laughs and DL freezes with his hand half phased through the refrigerator. "Busted," sing songs Micah at his father. Peter breaks the momentary truce by wiping some mashed potatoes in his brother Nathan's face but it is Nathan who shocks everyone in returning the favor and beginning round two.

Round two is messier than the first, if that is possible, and after a bit, Matt grabs Claire's arms and holds her still. "Free shots at the birthday girl," he announces.

Peter approaches Claire with a remorseful look on his face. He has a hand behind his back and his puppy dog eyes are out in full force. "Please," begs Claire, squirming to get out of the policeman's grasp. "Don't do it Peter. It's my birthday!"

"Exactly," replies her best friend solemnly and the puppy dog eyes are replaced by determination. "And that is exactly why I need to do this."

"Ahhhhh," Claire shrieks as he reaches a hand out and sprays whipped cream all over her. She manages to get a bit in her mouth and mumbles, "Mmm, tastes good."

The group laughs and the moment is over. Matt releases her and as Claire looks around the apartment, she cannot believe how much damage they managed to do with the small amount of food that was left. Micah is pretty much covered in food and the only person who does not have a foreign substance in their hair is Peter. She glares at the perfectly clean bangs hanging in his eyes, the sexy bangs she has spent many hours daydreaming about, and wonders how he did it.

"Happy birthday Claire," Peter says with a big smile. Claire smiles back and gives him a big hug, making sure to rub as much of the whipped cream he's sprayed on her back onto him.

Peter gives her an exaggerated pout when she pulls back. "No fair."

"All's fair in love and war," Claire gives him an air kiss and walks away to the bathroom, the words ringing a little too true for her.

"Here," says Micah, after everyone has taken turns in the bathroom, scrubbing food off as best they could and cleaned up the apartment. He hands her a present from the pile in the middle of the room. "It's from us."

Claire savors the feeling of the first present in her hands, holding it tightly against her midsection as she reads the card. "Oh c'mon Claire," says Isaac from across the room. "I know you are mature for your age but even _I_ rip the paper from presents and I'm almost thirty!"

Claire tears the wrapping off the box in an overzealous manner and throws the crumpled up ball at him. "Much better," he laughs.

Claire carefully takes the top off the box and squeals excitedly. She holds up three inch black peep toe stilettos for the group to see. "Thanks so much guys!" she gasps but she knows the gift is all Niki's doing. DL raises an eyebrow when he sees the shoes and gives his wife a look that clearly says _seriously?_

"Your very own pair of CFMPs. So you don't have to borrow mine anymore," Niki winks at the other blonde she has come to look at as a younger sister. The testosterone laden group forced Niki and Claire to bond and through various shopping excursions, Niki has shown Claire the more glamorous and seductive side to fashion. The shoes in Claire's hands were one more of Niki's attempts to get Claire to fully appreciate the gorgeous figure and face she was blessed with.

"What are see-f-m-peas?" asks Ando from across the room with a frown on his face.

"Um," says Claire, looking at Niki for guidance. She doesn't mind explaining but some of the words aren't suited for Micah.

"They're just a special kind of high heels," Niki covers vaguely and that seems to satisfy Ando but not Matt.

"What does CFMP stand for?" Matt asks innocently. Having heard someone think the answer, Matt knows full well what the letters stand for and he struggles to hide his smirk as Claire and Niki exchange an uncomfortable glance. Niki worries her lip, wondering how she is going to get out of the hole she has dug herself.

There is an awkward moment before Micah pipes up. "Come fuck me pumps." He hands Claire the next present. "I heard Mom say something about them once," he explains to the questioning looks. "And I know Mom, I won't repeat that word again."

"They're _what_?" explodes Peter and he looks a little green around the edges.

"Oh relax," Nathan mutters at his brother as the rest of the group becomes distracted watching Claire open another present. "Maybe one day you'll get lucky and she'll wear them for you."

Peter glares at his brother but his retort is drowned out by the shrill sound of Claire's cell phone. On reflex, everyone goes silent and Claire picks it up.

"Hello? Hi Daddy. Thanks. Yeah, I can't believe I'm 19 either. It's a little rough that it's during finals week but it's ok. Oh, just having a quiet evening with some friends. They made me dinner and now we're opening presents. Yes, I got your presents. Thank you. Tell Mom that I also got the picture of Mr. Muggles you e-mailed me and he definitely looks like a gold medal winner, no matter what the judges say. Haha. No, no finals tomorrow. One Thursday and two on Friday. I miss you too. I know, I want to come home too but the fact that they gave this internship to an upcoming sophomore is incredible and it's an opportunity I can't miss. Malaria research with Dr. Patrick. I haven't met him, he's supposed to be one of the best. Ok. I love you too. Tell Mom and Lyle I say hi too."

Claire hangs up the cell phone and blows out a breath, looking like a deflating balloon. "I sometimes think he knows exactly what I'm doing when I'm doing it."

"He doesn't though, right?" Ando asks anxiously.

"I don't know. I think he knows on some level that his attempt to wipe my memories failed and that I know I'm special. I don't know if he knows I'm in contact with any of you. I mean, as soon as I got to NY, Micah hacked into their computers and can monitor their research, phone calls, everything. From everything we've seen and everything Claude has told us from being down in Texas, shadowing my dad, we know Primatech doesn't monitor us anymore since we've all pretty much maintained our normal lives after Sylar went underground. Most of their research has been dedicated to relocating him. They know he left the city and went west but the trail gets cold around Des Moines. I know if my dad thought there was any sort of threat from him, he'd have me out of New York in a heartbeat. And if there was anything else we needed to know, Claude would tell us. Plus, I've gotten really good at knowing what I'm supposed to be saying and what he wants to hear."

"I didn't realize how much pretending you still had to do," confesses Mohinder.

"Yeah," Claire says with a sad smile. "Probably my whole life. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with it but I really think that he believes what he's doing – lying to me, trying to erase my memories – is right. That he's protecting me or something. That makes it a little easier to deal with, I guess. And having my bio-dad down there, watching him, makes me feel less paranoid and nervous. But I don't want to talk about it anymore. Give me a present."

Micah hands Claire a long tube and the night resumes normally after the short, tense interruption. In addition to making the cake, Hiro and Ando have given Claire the infamous "College" poster featuring John Belushi. She hugs both of the men and promises to hang it up above her desk when she gets back to her dorm room later that night. Claire also receives a beautiful portrait of herself from Isaac and a set of 4 margarita glasses from Matt.

"Margarita glasses?" Peter asks and Claire rolls her eyes at him. "Tequila is bad news for Claire. Makes her inhibitions disappear."

Matt raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? And just how do you know this?"

Peter goes red and stammers, "No, no, not like that. She just dances on bars. No clothes come off!" DL looks amused at his discomfort.

Claire's blushing at the thought of Peter witnessing all of her inhibitions disappear but she rescues Peter anyway and explains her embarrassing behavior on her birthday to the group. She thanks Matt for the glasses and moves on to a gorgeous photo album from Nathan. It reeks of his wife Heidi's touch, especially when Claire goes through and finds some pictures in it already. She pauses on one of her and Peter at Christmas, dressed in tacky Christmas sweaters, making faces at the camera. She's never seen it before, doesn't remember taking it, and her heart skips a beat as she looks at Peter's perfect features. Shaking herself from her thoughts, Claire thanks Nathan sincerely.

Mohinder presents her with a hefty book on the history of genetics. He teases her that she is not in it yet and Claire laughs at their inside joke. She had confided in him once that she cannot choose between majoring in history or genetics - one is her passion and one is her life but she has the chance to be a part of both.

After Claire has finished opening presents and they are placed in bags for her to take home, everyone begins to file out. Not surprisingly, Nathan is the first one to leave. Claire smirks as he politely waves goodbye and makes excuses about meetings and stuff. He's clearly pissed about the potatoes in his hair and the corn sauce he can't get out of his suit and the fact that he had to sit through an entire dinner with an ex-heroin addict, a convicted criminal, a woman he cheated on his wife with, and the cheerleader that nearly got his brother killed. Claire knows he thinks her relationship with Peter, the close friendship they have forged, is inappropriate and she is certain that Peter had to almost physically drag him along tonight. But, for as little as he did think of her, Nathan forced a smile and sat through the whole meal quietly, making comments under his breath only Peter could hear. It had been almost pleasant.

DL, Niki, and Micah leave shortly afterwards. Claire hugs her favorite family goodbye and makes a date with Micah to get ice cream after he gets out of school. She loves hanging out with Micah in the afternoons after he gets out of the prestigious prep school he attends on full scholarship before Niki gets home from her job as a personal trainer (she has finally harnessed control on her alter-ego, Jessica, and can now use Jessica's strength in positive ways) and DL's construction shift is over. Micah's taller than her now, which isn't hard, but Claire still thinks of him as a little brother and it helps quell the ache Claire feels for her brother Lyle.

The rest of the group leaves in drips and drabs and Peter offers to walk Claire home after he catches her yawning. They walk out of Isaac's with bags full of presents. "So, Mr. Petrelli," teases Claire as they walk down the street. "I don't remember getting a present from you."

Peter smiles down at her and puts his free arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Mmmm, you smell like whipped cream," he says and Claire rolls her eyes.

"That's because of you," she reminds him.

"Well, it smells good. Come here." He leads her to a bench and they sit down. Claire shivers slightly, despite the warm May air, and Peter places his coat over her shoulders. He pulls a slim envelope out of his back pocket and Claire eyes it dubiously.

"That's my present?" she asks.

"It's obviously not shoes," he says and Claire giggles. He begins to hand the envelope to her and she reaches for it but he grabs it back before she can touch it. "And before you open this, can I just say that you are never allowed to wear those shoes? Ever? "

Claire rolls her eyes. "Ok Peter," she says dismissively and grabs the envelope out of his hands. Inside the envelope, she finds two concert tickets. Her eyes go wide and she flings herself at Peter, engulfing him in a big hug.

"Peter! Oh my god! How did you get these? They have been sold out for _months_!"

Peter shrugs and says simply, "I knew you'd want to go. I called in a favor."

Claire widens her eyes. "Called in a favor? Is your new patient the head of a Mafia family?"

"I don't think so, although his family looks like they should be involved in mob activities. But nobody's come up to me and said, 'I'll make you an offer you can't refuse,'" Peter quotes with a terrible impersonation but he is looking deep into her eyes.

This time when Claire shivers, it is not from the cold.

Peter, of course, misreads the shiver and stands up. Holding out his hand, he says, "Come on. Let's get you home. The whipped cream is hardening in your hair."

Neither hear the distinctive click of a photograph being taken as they walk away.


	3. Chapter 2: Beneath the Neon Lights

_small note_: I don't actually know what political party Nathan belongs to (was it ever mentioned?) but the story's already AU so I just arbitrarily assigned one. Sorry if it was the wrong one!

**CHAPTER TWO: Beneath the Neon Lights**

_Put on your best dress baby, and darlin', fix your hair up right. Cause there's a party, honey, way down beneath the neon lights. All day you've been working that hard line, now tonight you're gonna have a good time.  
-- __Bruce Springsteen, Out in the Street_

thursday may 8: 7:58 pm

"I don't understand," Emily Masser says to her roommate. "Don't you have two finals tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Claire replies, fiddling with the strap on her shoe. She wrinkles her nose. "Chemistry and Calc II."

"Those are your two hardest exams. Tell me again why you're going to this thing. And who holds a fundraiser on a Thursday?"

"Em," Claire says patiently as she looks up from her shoes. "It's at the _Plaza_. It's like _the_ fundraiser of the year for Democratic politics. There are going to be _celebrities_ there. Besides, I studied all day. It'll be like a study break."

"I can't say I've ever heard of taking a study break at the Plaza in a slinky gown."

Claire gives her an impish look. "First time for everything?" she tries to reason.

Emily rolls her eyes. "Maybe but I think you should just admit the real reason you are going."

"The real reason is that George Clooney is going to be there and I am going to do everything in my power to touch his gorgeous butt."

Emily laughs and lies back on her bed. "You are such a LIAR!"

"I am not! I just want to touch George Clooney's butt!"

"That's not the only butt you want to touch," Emily challenges as she turns and props her head up with her hand. "You want to slow dance with Peter and then maybe slide your hand down and squeeze _that_ man's delicious rear end."

Claire squeals, outraged. "Take that back," she says, advancing on her roommate.

"Claire, you're in a ball gown. You've done your hair. And I have like six inches on you. Are you sure you want to start this?"

Claire pushes back imaginary sleeves and launches herself onto Emily's bed. She gathers Emily's wrists with one hand and attacks her with her other. Tickling her mercilessly, Claire yells between bouts of laughter, "Take it back! Take it back or I'll tell Jason what you want to do to HIM!"

Emily wriggles around on the bed, laughing so hard she is gasping for air. "Never!"

Both girls are laughing too hard to hear the knock or the door creaking open. "Am I interrupting something?" Peter asks from the doorway. "Because I can wait." Claire and Emily freeze. "Oh no," protests Peter with a smirk. "Please, don't stop because of me."

Claire stands up and smoothes out her dress. _Dirty boy_, she thinks and Peter smiles. She narrows her eyes in suspicion but before she can ask him, Emily squeaks, "Hi Peter."

"Hi Em," Peter winks at her and turns back to Claire. "You look gorgeous," he tells her, his eyes traveling slowly down her body and back. And she does: Claire's simple emerald silk dress clings to her body and accentuates her every curve. The dress is demure yet is backless, adding effortless elegance and understated sex appeal. Her neck and ears are adorned with simple silver jewelry and silver shoes encase her ankles and give her several inches of height. She has kept her hair loose and curly, pulling some of it back in a clip. Her makeup is light and natural, her perfectly pouted lips are glossed in a sheer coating and her eyes sparkle with excitement.

Claire blushes under Peter's studious gaze and murmurs, "Thank you." She gathers her purse and shawl and waves goodbye to Emily. "You look pretty good yourself," she says as they walk down the hall. _Hot_, she corrects herself. _Sexy_.

"Don't you mean hot and sexy?" teases Peter as he helps Claire with the shawl.

Claire hits him on the shoulder. "You've been hanging out with Matt, haven't you?"

Peter nods. "He dropped something off just as I was leaving."

"Oh and you just happened to forget to block his power out. How convenient," Claire says with a smile. "God, I hate you," she continues but there is no venom in her statement. They walk out of her dorm building and there is a limo waiting at the curb. Claire turns to Peter with her eyes wide. "Oh no I don't!" Peter opens the door for her and she slides inside. Leaning back against the leather, she closes her eyes. "Ahhhhh," she sighs happily. "Life is good."

Peter gets in next to her and taps the glass partition, alerting the driver they can head to the fundraiser. He sits back and puts his arm around Claire. "No, you don't," he murmurs and closes his eyes in contentment.

11:21 pm

"Claire, this is one of my brother's aides, Brett Rush," introduces Peter. "Brett, this is my date, Claire Bennet."

Claire watches as Brett takes her offered hand and kisses it. "It's a pleasure." Brett is around Nathan's age, perhaps a year or two older, with blonde hair and hazel eyes. "And may I say – you are stunning."

Claire tries not to gag. "Thank you," she says with a polite smile. She breaks the uncomfortable eye contact Brett is keeping with her and darts her eyes around the expansive room, looking for any celebrity as an excuse to get out of this already awkward conversation. So far all she sees is smarmy politicians in tuxedos, trying to impress each other. The man in front of her is no exception.

A waiter carrying a tray of champagne comes over. Peter takes two off the tray and hands one to Claire. "Oh no. I have two finals tomorrow. Have to stay sharp," she says, tapping her head.

"Finals?" questions Brett. There is a look on his face that Claire does not like and she feels Peter subtly inch his way closer to her.

"Yeah, chemistry and calc II. I'm a freshman at NYU." She turns to Peter and lies. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." On an impulse, she kisses his cheek before disappearing into the crowd. _Sorry but I have to get out of here,_ she thinks at him, hoping he clues in enough to read her thoughts, even though he promised never to do so – despite what he had just done in the hallway of her dorm. Judging by his crooked smile, he knows her well enough to understand anyway.

Brett turns his attention to Peter. "Good for _you_, man," he says with a smirk and there is no misinterpreting his meaning.

Peter gives him a stormy look. "It's not like that." He is tired of having to explain his relationship with Claire to people – no one ever believes they are just friends.

Brett raises an eyebrow. "Sure looks like that."

"It's not," Peter grounds out, eyes flashing in fury. "And if I see you so much as talking to her again tonight, do not doubt that I will reach my hand down your throat, remove your kidneys, and make them my own personal punching bags."

He stalks away to find Claire halfway across the room and talking to Heidi, who looks stunning in her deep blue gown. Heidi, who has proven all her doctors wrong, is leaning on crutches and smiles when she spots Peter coming towards her. He gives his sister-in-law a hug and says, "You look fantastic Heidi."

"Thanks Peter," Heidi says, genuinely pleased. "I feel great too. Gotta bring out the crutches for long events like this because they are hell on my legs but for the most part, I feel great."

"When did you get into town?" Peter asks as he slips an arm around Claire's waist, his hand resting against her hipbone. Claire feels a bolt of electricity go through her as the warmth of his hand seeps through the cool silk of her dress. She bites her lip because the gesture is nothing – it's never anything –and she _wants_ it to be something.

"Just this morning. The boys had a spring singing concert last night that I didn't want to miss so I took the earliest flight up today."

"How are you liking DC?" Claire wants to know.

Heidi shrugs her shoulders. "I'm a New Yorker, born and bred. It's different. Nathan's thriving, of course, but the politics of who we have to go to dinner with and who our kids should have playdates with gets to me sometimes. I'm keeping busy though and it's slowly growing on me. If all goes according to plan, we'll be back in New York soon enough," she winks. Leaning closer, she whispers, "But I didn't tell you that."

"So it's true that Nathan is thinking of running for governor of New York?" Claire asks Heidi excitedly. As if on cue, Nathan appears. He shakes Peter's hand and even gives Claire a hug. He is glowing from the success of the event and he answers Claire question for his wife.

"What are you, the press?" he asks gruffly, reverting back to his usual self. "I'm still not sure. Maybe. More yes than no."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'm right behind you," Peter says with pride in his voice. Nathan gives his brother an affectionate slap on the back and a smile. After a few more minutes of chatting, Nathan excuses himself to talk to an important donor and Heidi is soon swept up in another conversation with someone's wife.

"Dance with me," Peter whispers in Claire's ear and she nods her accession. They smile goodbye to Heidi and Peter takes her hand as they make their way through the crowd to the dance floor. Finding a square of the floor to themselves, Peter draws Claire close. The music pauses in between songs and when it starts again, Norah Jones's sultry voice washes over them.

Claire nestles her head on his shoulder, finally able to reach it with the help of her heels, and Peter pulls her petite frame flush with his. He brings one hand up to tangle in the loose blonde curls, lets his fingers slowly massage the back of her neck. Claire's body is warm against his and Peter can feel every curve, every single inch of her body against his and tries not to imagine how this would feel if there were less layers between them. They are too close and the room is too dark and Peter feels himself rapidly approaching dangerous territory. But he cannot _help_ himself and before he knows it, his hand has left its resting place on her slim waist and slid slowly along the silk fabric of her dress, coming to rest on the bare skin her backless dress affords. His fingertips trace lazy circles in the dip of her spine right above the swell of her butt.

Claire shivers into his touch and inches forward, although there is no room for a sheet of paper between them. She can feel her breasts squished into his firm chest, his belt buckle imprinting the soft flesh above her straining hipbones.

"I'm just sitting here, waiting for you to come home and turn me on," Claire whispers against Peter's neck, keeping time with Norah and his racing pulse. She feels Peter's fingers falter briefly in their pattern and he takes a ragged breath.

"Claire," he whispers and the tension in his voice vibrates throughout Claire. She can feel his fingers get a little more adventurous – a little lower, until they are almost inside the dress material. She slows her movement but does not still, silently giving him permission, and she smiles against his skin as she feels him swallow slowly when his fingertips brush the top of her thong. Her smile fades as she looks up at him and they make eye contact. His eyes are warm chocolate and there is an expression in them Claire does not recognize, does not dare to name. The room is humid and sticky and she is nervous with an anticipation that begins in her head and settles somewhere much lower.

"Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention!" Nathan calls from the stage and the dark room is suddenly lit. Claire blinks and steps away from Peter like she has been burned. She doesn't listen to Nathan's thank you speech, simply claps in all the right places, and slips away to the bathroom at the first available moment. She sits in a stall and tries to catch her breath but all she can concentrate on is the feel of Peter's hands on her skin.

Peter watches Claire maneuver her way through the people lingering on the dance floor, her silver heels clicking with every frantic step. He sighs and shakes his head at himself before turning and going in the opposite direction of Claire. It takes him a few minutes to get through the crowd but he persists and finds himself at Nathan's side.

"You have the worst timing ever," Peter complains.

"How so?" asks Nathan, smiling and shaking hands as people file out.

"Your speech. I was dancing with Claire."

"So? She was your date. Your non-date date, which is totally lame."

"I wanted to take Claire," Peter says stiffly.

Nathan continues shaking hands and smiling but he pauses long enough to shoot Peter a look. "All I'm saying is that if you wanted to bring someone that young, you should have brought someone who would have at least put out afterwards." Nathan pauses. "But hey! Is Claire wearing those shoes? Because if she is, maybe you can get laid after all."

Peter shakes his head. "She's not wearing the shoes. And even if she was, it wouldn't be like that. Although, when we were dancing, it _was_ getting heated."

Nathan laughs out loud, a sharp bark of amusement. "Heated? Have you been reading Mom's romance novels?"

"I'm serious Nathan. This is serious."

"What's serious is how long you've wanted the girl and haven't done anything about it."

"She's my best friend. And still in college. She's still lying to her dad and she needs someone to lean on, to help her. I can't take advantage of her like that. It's not the right time."

Nathan rolls his eyes. "Peter, stop being such a bitch and coming up with excuses."

"Excuses for what?" asks Claire, fresh from the bathroom but still looking slightly doe eyed.

"You and George Clooney," Nathan lies smoothly. "Peter didn't want to disappoint you. He just left. Right after my speech. I took a picture with him before and Heidi looked for you but I think you were on the dance floor and it was too crowded to get to you. Better luck next time, kid," he says and though he's looking at Claire, he's speaking to Peter.

Peter shuffles slightly, unsure how to act with Claire, before deciding it's not worth it to be awkward since it was just a one time thing and won't happen again. "C'mon Claire. Let's get you home."

1:04 am

The man develops the pictures in a room lit only by a red light. The room is cramped and the small red light does little to disrupt the dark silence. Carefully, the man picks several pictures out of a solution and hangs them with clothes pins.

Slowly, the pictures come into focus, many featuring Claire's smiling face, her gorgeous features illuminated in the frenzy of lights outside the Plaza. The man in the shadows allows himself a small smile in return as he contemplates the young woman.

His smile fades as he looks at the last picture.

There is a pause before long fingers reach out for the picture and trace the small curve of Claire's face, her eyes trained up at Peter in a look of admiration and love. The man's own eyes drift from Claire's face to Peter's hand on Claire's bare skin and slowly, deliberately, he crumples the picture, disposing it in a bin marked _toxic waste_.

"No one appreciates you the way I do," he whispers in a raspy voice to the pictures of Claire.


	4. Chapter 3: Another Alien on Broadway

CHAPTER THREE: Another Alien on Broadway

_She got out of town, on the railway New York bound. Took all except my name – another alien on Broadway. Well, some things in this world, you just can't change, some things you can't see until it gets too late. Baby, baby, baby, when all your love is gone –who will save me from all I'm up against out in this world?_

_-- Bright Lights, Matchbox Twenty_

thursday may 8: 2:10 am

Isaac blinks slowly and the milky white film over his eyes fades into concerned brown as he surveys the four canvases he has painted this time. It is rare that he paints a montage of events featuring a single person and lately, it has become even rarer to even _recognize_ the people featured but today, there are clearly four canvases featuring his favorite ex-cheerleader.

The first canvas has Claire dressed in a gorgeous strapless lavender gown with her curls pulled into a ponytail on one side. The next canvas is the most innocuous; it is simply Claire sniffing an ornate bouquet of flowers. The third picture is the one that frightens Isaac the most; it features Claire in a foreign bedroom, sitting in bed with the sheets pulled tight to her chest and a nervous look on her face. The last picture is of Claire in the gown again, her knee cut and bleeding as she runs down a hallway. With the exception of the canvas with Claire and the flowers, the paintings have dark overtones and large shadows.

Isaac frowns at his latest batch and puts them to the side. _I always paint questions, not answers_, he thinks tiredly.

friday may 9: 8:08 pm

"A truly excellent end of the semester dinner," says Claire, patting her stomach and wiping her face with a napkin. "That was the most delicious meal I've had in a long time, Isaac. Minus my birthday dinner. But that ended up _on_ most people."

"There's still time," threatens Ando.

Isaac laughs and smiles at Claire from the other end of the table. Leaning back, he puts his arm around the back of the next chair and says, "Thanks Claire. But don't you mean end of freshman year dinner? How were your finals today?"

"Not bad – chemistry wasn't too bad and calc was a breeze after Micah helped me study in the park yesterday." She squeezed Micah's leg. "You're probably the reason I passed calculus this semester."

"And you're the reason I gained five pounds this year, bribing me with all that ice cream," he shoots back. "But I also grew three inches, so whatever." He puffs up his thin chest and Claire gives him an affectionate smile. He is so _smart_ and so _adult _that sometimes it really is hard to remember he is only thirteen and things like growing three inches in a year matter.

"Weren't you tired after last night? What time did this one bring you home last night?" asks Matt, jerking his thumb at Peter.

"Actually, not too late, probably a little before 1," Claire says. "I was able to review my notes this morning and everything."

"We haven't talked about last night yet," says Niki, leaning forward eagerly. "Did you get to see George Clooney?"

Peter groans. "God, what is with this obsession with George Clooney?"

"He is very good looking," says Hiro solemnly. "Sexiest man alive."

Claire smiles at Hiro before shaking her head slowly, overdramatically. "Nope, I didn't see him. Nathan told me he was there and that he took a picture with him. I was dancing at the time and Heidi couldn't find me." She chances a look at Peter and finds him staring back, his expression unreadable.

"Which dress did you wear?"

"The green one I borrowed from Heidi. Yours was beautiful but it was just a bit too long."

"Hey, I can't believe I forgot," Isaac says, smacking his forehead with his palm. "Did Peter bring you flowers?"

"No," says Claire, shaking her head. "Why?"

Isaac doesn't answer, he simply disappears into his studio. He returns a few moments later with four small canvases. He turns one over and there is Claire, sniffing a bouquet of flowers.

"Weird," Claire says. "I haven't gotten flowers in forever."

"Well, maybe Peter'll send them after this conversation," DL ribs. "Since he didn't bring the pretty girl flowers before the dance. God, man, didn't you _go _to high school? Flowers make a girl putty in your hand. You - remember that," he points at Micah.

Niki groans. "Please do not make our son a pimp. It's bad enough he's hanging around all this testosterone, I do not need any of you giving him pointers on how to make a girl putty in his hands."

"Don't listen to her Micah. And, also, it's probably better that you don't listen to anything Peter says either. Peter doesn't even know about the flowers. That's like Step 1," DL says, attempting to put his hands on Niki's ears to stop her from hearing his encouragement.

"What's Step Two?" Claire asks, intrigued.

Before DL can respond, the doorbell rings. Mohinder is closest to the door and he opens it to a delivery boy with flowers in his hand. Claire exchanges a glance with Isaac and is not surprised when Mohinder declares, "It's for you Claire."

"Whoa, Pete. Did you borrow Hiro's power and send Claire flowers now? Because that surpasses step one. You're on a whole new level," DL says.

Peter raises his hands in front of his body. "Not from me."

"There's a note," Mohinder notices as he hands Claire the bouquet.

Claire opens the envelope and it is not a card but a picture she pulls out. She stares at it in confusion for a moment and flicks her eyes up to Peter questioningly. "Are you sure it's not from you Peter?"

"Yes," he says a bit sharply. "Now stop making me feel like an ass and tell us who _did_ send you flowers."

"It's a picture, not a note," Claire explains. She turns the picture over to see if there is a note on the back. She reads it and visibly pales.

"What is it?" asks Niki, alarmed.

"You looked beautiful last night," Mohinder reads out loud from over her shoulder. The picture is of Claire getting out of the limo in the front of the Plaza. She is holding Peter's hand and laughing at something he said. The picture captures an intimate moment in the friendship of the two and perhaps there is something in their smiles to suggest more.

"Read the rest," Claire says weakly.

Peter is already standing up, his chair toppling to the floor. "There's more? What else does it say?"

"The world doesn't understand you. Our day is coming soon."

8:47 pm

"No," Claire shakes her head. "That's ridiculous. I'm not giving up my internship because some creep has taken one picture of me. I earned that internship, I beat out tons of other really qualified _upper_classmen, and I want that internship."

Matt rubs his head. "I know Claire, but don't you see how dangerous this could get? Isaac's painted four paintings of you and you look frightened in at least two of them. And the one that seems most happy brought this letter and picture with it!"

Claire glares at him. "I'm not twelve, Matt. Stop treating me like I am. Obviously, the paintings and the picture frighten me. But I'm not giving up my life because Isaac painted some pictures we don't understand or because some creep took a picture of me."

Ando cuts in before the argument escalated. "Fine, Claire doesn't give up her internship. What are you doing for housing this summer?"

"I'm using NYU's housing. I got a single."

"No, absolutely not," Peter says. "You cannot stay alone in a building that is renting out rooms to strangers for the summer."

"Fine," grounds out Claire. "Then what do I do?"

"You can stay with me," offers Mohinder. "I have a spare room."

Niki nixes that idea quickly. "It's a good idea and pretty ideal but I don't think NYU would quite understand if they found out one of their professors was living with one of their students. You can stay with us Claire."

"You don't have room for a fourth person," Matt argues.

Almost immediately, Isaac points out that Matt is working nights for the next few weeks, leaving Claire alone at night and suggests his apartment that he shares with Hiro and Ando. Niki notices Claire's apprehensive look and voices her thoughts. She informs everyone that Claire sharing an apartment with three guys, even if they were Isaac, Hiro, and Ando, spells disaster. Which leaves Peter.

After all is said and done, it is determined that Claire is staying with Peter until the stalker is caught and Mohinder is picking her up and dropping her off every day, despite Peter's apartment being completely out of the way. Also, Claire cannot go anywhere by herself and it is even strongly suggested she does not leave Peter's apartment unless necessary.

"Claire, do you have any idea who might have taken this picture?" Matt asks, in detective mode.

"No. The fundraiser was _covered _with paparazzi. There were flashes going off everywhere. Hey, Micah, do you think you can scan it and analyze it or something? Look at the ink? Handwriting? Anything?"

"Sure," Micah agrees. "Give me a little time and I'll have something for you."

"Is it possible that this guy is just some nutcase? That maybe he saw Claire get out of the limo and thought she was beautiful?" asks Niki hopefully.

Peter snorts. "Probably not."

Claire frowns. "Screw you Peter."

Peter realizes how that sounded and tries to take Claire's hand but she pulls it away. "Claire, I didn't mean that no one would find you beautiful. You did look beautiful last night," he pleads, backpedaling over his words quickly. "I just think that the wording on the back of the picture is a bit strange."

"Oh, but getting sent flowers and a picture of yourself isn't?"

"Look Claire, I know you're feeling frustrated that a lot of your liberties are being taken away but we can't take this lightly. Even if this guy did just spot you and take the picture, he did a lot of groundwork to find out who you are. And even beyond that, the guy knew enough to send the flowers here and not your dorm room so we have to assume he followed you here. Until we figure out who this crazy guy is, we need to prepare for the worst," Matt wisely points out.

"I know. It just sucks. I feel like this shit always happens to me," Claire pouts.

"Don't worry. I'll protect you again," grins Peter and while he means it as a joke, Claire explodes.

"That's the thing!" she yells. "I don't WANT you to have to protect me. I'm not the stupid cheerleader you had to come to Texas to save, I'm not some little girl who can't take care of herself. I'm 19 years old, for God's sake. I've lived through a lot in those years and I managed to take care of myself when all of you left Texas, when my dad erased the memories of anyone I've ever cared about, when I had to deal with being alone and scared and a _freak_. My real mom can control fire, my real father is invisible, and I can't get hurt – hell, I might not be able to _die_! I lie to my college friends regularly about who I really am and what I can do and where I go when I am with one of you and I'd appreciate it if everyone remembered any of this for once instead of assuming I'm just going roll over and let this guy come after and not put up a fight!"

Claire grabs her jacket and says over her shoulder before she slams the door, "I'm going up the roof to think. _Don't_ follow me."

There is stunned silence in the wake of her outburst before Hiro says wearily, "I think she has a point."

Peter stands to go after her but Ando puts his hand on his arm and shakes his head. "Let Niki go."

Niki gives Peter a sympathetic smile and walks out of the apartment towards the roof. She finds Claire leaning on the ledge, looking down at the people walking on the sidewalk below. Without turning around, she says, "You shouldn't have come up."

Niki finds Claire leaning on the roof, looking down at the people walking on the sidewalk below. Without turning around, she says, "You shouldn't have come up."

"But I did," Niki says gently but doesn't press for more. Niki hates patronizing people, hates the way people talk to you when you're upset, like you're a small child throwing a tantrum. The stupid psychiatrist did it in jail, she won't do it to Claire.

After a while, Claire whispers, "The stars don't shine in New York." She smiles wistfully before she continues, "Is it fucked up that I sort of miss Texas?"

"No. New York's a big, scary city and pretty much as different from Texas as you can get."

"It's not even that though. I miss how simple my life was once. Before I found out I had this crazy ability, before Sylar, before my dad became not my dad. I miss being a cheerleader because it was so easy – I only talked to the other popular kids, I got invited to all the coolest parties, and I never stayed up at night worrying about the world collapsing around me. Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like if I wasn't special. Sometimes, I even wish I wasn't. Am I a terrible person for wishing that?" There is a desperate quality to Claire's voice and Niki knows this is something she has felt for a long time, something she has needed to voice but has been afraid to admit out loud.

"No, Claire. Absolutely not. You think, before I gained control of Jessica, I didn't want with all my might to get rid of her? To stop her from doing all the horrible things she did? It's completely normal. You are not a bad person for sometimes wishing to be normal – it _would_ make everything a lot easier."

"I'm afraid my stalker is Sylar," Claire confesses. "He just disappeared – one day, he was causing death and destruction, the next, he was gone. Vanished. What if he's back? He won't stop with me. He'll come after all of you and he'll kill you all and I'll be the only one left because I can't get hurt. And then I'll be all alone again," Claire whispers.

"You won't be alone," Niki says vehemently, pulling the younger woman in for a hug. "I won't let it happen again."

Claire mumbles, "Thank you" into Niki's neck.

"Come on," Niki says. "Let's go back downstairs and we'll all put on a movie – you can choose - and tomorrow, we'll help you move into Peter's apartment and maybe, if we're lucky, in a week you'll be calling me to tell me that your stalker got caught and you and Peter have finally gotten together and life will be good."

Claire groans and begins to walk back with Niki. "Oh god, that reminds me. I haven't told you about last night when we were dancing…"

9:21 pm

He observes her from the shadows, close enough to see the emotions play on her face but far enough to not be privy to her words. He watches as fear and anxiety, sadness and hope, flitter across her face and remembers the first time he ever saw her.

She had been so young, so full of life, so absolutely in the cocoon her father was wrapping her in. He feels a fire burn inside him at the thought of her father, feel rage towards the man he had trusted so implicitly, only to be repaid by betrayal and near death.

He pushes the fire deep within himself and slinks further back into the shadows. It is not yet time.


	5. Chapter 4: Case of You

note: There are several easter eggs references/stolen lines inside this chapter. One is a Friends (Rachel-Joey) exchange and there are two from the Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich. I make no claims on these lines, I'm simply borrowing them!

CHAPTER FOUR: Case of You  
_Oh, you are in my blood like holy wine. Oh and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet. Oh, I could drink a case of you, I could drink a case of you darling - and I would still be on my feet. Oh I'd still be on my feet.  
__---Joni Mitchell, Case of You_

thursday may 15: 5:27 pm

When Claire was little and nothing in the world mattered except her mom and her dad, sometimes on lazy Sunday afternoons her whole family would hop in her dad's old Toyota Camry and go for long drives in the wealthy suburbs of Odessa. It was incredibly old fashioned and corny and Claire loved every minute of it. She had favorite routes and favorite houses and never tired of imagining what life was like inside of the big, beautiful mansions that littered the windy roads. Eventually, her family turned out to be a nightmare and her little corny afternoons were nothing but a memory but Claire never stopped dreaming of the insides of the mansions. It became a pet project of hers; she loved to sketch imaginary rooms and decorate them with furniture she saw in antique stores and wallpapers she found in catalogs.

Which doesn't explain how she ends up with a backseat full of paint brushes and rollers and trays and, worst of all, paint – but maybe it comes close.

"Are you sure that Peter isn't going to mind?" Niki asks as they struggle to get everything into the cab.

"Yeah," Claire says. "The living room needs to be painted anyway. He'll probably be thankful I found something to do and I'm not bugging him anymore about being bored."

"How is the living arrangement going? Is it still awkward?"

"It was a little bit the first day just because all the sudden my stuff was everywhere and he's been so used to living alone but now we're in a routine. It's been a week, you know? Now, we're like an old married couple except I didn't get all the years of benefits."

"Nothing's changed in that area?"

"Not really. And it's unhealthy for me to have these feelings for him, I decided. I really need to just move on but … it's so hard when I'm living with him and he does something sweet, like cook me my favorite dinner because I'm on glorified house arrest or I see him come out of the shower in just a towel. I'm trying so hard to be objective but he just makes me so, so – electrically charged!"

"Is that college talk for horny?"

Claire laughs at Niki's bluntness. "Yeah, probably."

"I personally think you should just pretend to have a bad dream, lure him into your room, and pounce him. Just do it. DL swears that he wants you too but he's just too much of a gentleman to do much about it. I'm sure he's waiting for a sign or something. Maybe another one of his dreams."

"He only has apocalyptic dreams. They're never happy. Like Isaac and his paintings. He paints me getting flowers, they come attached with a stalker. Not happy."

The cab stopped in front of Peter's building. "Want any help bringing all this up?"

"No, I called Peter before. He should be – yup, there he is. Thanks for babysitting me today!"

Peter opens the door to the cab and eyes the bags dubiously. "What is this?"

"We're painting!" Claire exclaims happily and Peter groans.

"For the record, I told her it probably wasn't the best idea," Niki says.

"Traitor," Claire whispers under her breath before handing some bags to Peter. "Let's go!"

After they had reached Peter's apartment and taped all the window edges with blue tape as not to paint them, covered the floor with sheets, and moved all the furniture and any decorations out of the room, they found themselves left with four bare walls, tired arms, and little enthusiasm.

"I didn't realize how big your apartment was," confesses Claire.

"I have an idea. Go get changed into something you're willing to get paint on."

Claire returns in a few minutes dressed in small running shorts, a black wife beater, and her hair in a messy ponytail. Peter tries not to notice how toned her body is or how good her legs look bare. He fails miserably.

"Here," Peter says, handing Claire a small glass of wine. "Enthusiasm in a bottle."

"Wine? We're going to paint drunk?"

"Not drunk, per say," explains Peter. "Just enough to get excited to follow through with your project."

"Ok," says Claire, not quite convinced. Wine isn't her favorite choice of alcohol – it goes straight to her head and makes her a lot loopier than beer or hard alcohol does. She takes a generous sip of wine anyway before opening the can of paint and pouring it into a tray. The green color splashes and a few drops end up on Claire's legs. "This is going to get messy."

"What color is that?"

"Paradise Hills. It's a mix between evergreen and emerald." Peter raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything. "By the way," Claire says as she rips the rollers out of their plastic. "My dad is coming to New York next weekend. So we have to pretend like we don't know each other for a few days."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously," Claire tosses him a roller. "He's here for some paper conference and I think it's legit. He'll probably make some time to Hero shadow and he'll definitely spend time with me but I honestly think it's mostly work this time."

"What about your stalker?"

"What about my stalker?"

"Are you going to tell your dad?" Peter asks impatiently.

"Um, no," Claire says like it is the dumbest question. "Are you kidding? He'd lock me up tighter than you guys are. He'd case the city. No, it's much better if he doesn't know."

"But what if your stalker tries something?"

Claire gives Peter a look. "I think my dad'll taser him to death. It'll be fine. Really. Except you'll have to go without my pretty face for a few days," she teases.

Peter rolls his eyes. "Oh god, anything but that." He takes a sip of wine before dipping his roller into the tray. "Here goes nothing." His strokes are even and compact and Claire watches, mesmerized as the muscles in his back ripple with every movement.

"You're staring," he says teasingly.

Claire doesn't even bother to deny it. "It's a nice view," she says softly.

They hold eye contact for a moment before Peter blinks and looks away. Claire takes a gulp of wine, unsure of why the room suddenly seems so small when before it had seem overwhelmingly large, and when Peter speaks, his voice seems gruffer than normal. "You're also losing."

"Oh, is this a race?"

"It's a war.

"Well, Mr. Petrelli, it's your lucky day. I give good war." She cocks a hip towards him and grins in what she hopes is a seductive way. The wine is giving her ideas and Peter's intense stare is doing nothing to derail them. Because all of the sudden, Claire can't help but notice how _attractive _Peter is. How the tight shirt he is wearing hugs his sculpted arms and rests perfectly on his abs. How she wishes he'd take it off. How she can get him to take it off. "Your shirt is going to get paint all over it. It's a good shirt," she says in a helpful voice.

Peter responds exactly as she hopes he would and takes off his shirt, leaving him in low slung, faded jeans and nothing else. Claire swallows and Peter smiles predatorily.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is this making you uncomfortable?"

"Nope. Perfectly ok over here," Claire lies.

"Well, to be honest, I'm feeling uncomfortable. I just think if I'm going to be shirtless, you should have to be shirtless too," Peter teases.

Claire laughs. "I may be tipsy but there's no way I am drunk enough for that, mister."

"So, you're saying there is a chance?"

"I'm saying, paint your wall because you – are – losing!" At this, Claire speeds up her motions and laughs widely as Peter struggles to paint furiously to catch up while not spilling his wine.

After a few minutes of intense painting, Claire puts down her roller and pouts. "Pe-ter," she whines. "I have a problem."

"Just one?"

"Shut up. I'm not tall enough to reach the ceiling."

"Some soldier. I thought you gave good war," and there is no mistaking it – he definitely paused suggestively between the last two words.

"I _do_ but you're cheating. You're not giving me any opportunities to show you."

Claire's smile is positively lecherous and Peter blinks slowly, the words processing and repeating in his head. "Well, we'll have to fix that." Peter grabs a small step stool from a closet and drags it over to Claire's wall. "Here," he says. "Stand on this." Claire obliges and Peter puts his hands on her waist to steady her. He leaves green fingerprints in his wake and the paint is sticky against Claire's skin. The stepstool makes her approximately the same height as Peter and it is unnerving. Claire takes a fortifying breath and begins to paint the top of the wall. Her movements are wild and unorganized. "That way takes too long, Claire. Let me help you."

Slowly, he brings his right arm up her torso, brushes his fingertips onto her shoulder, down her arm, past her elbow, up to her fingers. The hairs on Claire's arm stand up from the light touches. Entwining her fingers with his own around the roller, he leans into her body and wraps his other arm around her waist, his fingers hot as they rest on her stomach. "Slower and more controlled is better," he whispers into her ear as they paint the upper part of the wall together. "You have to apply just the right amount of pressure to ensure the best results from your … strokes."

Claire's pretty sure they are not only talking about painting. She feels dizzy from the wine and the proximity of Peter and decides this is Peter's way of getting back at her for wanting to paint in the first place.

"What are the best results?" she asks, turning in his arms until they are face to face. She runs her hands over his smooth shoulders and down his torso, enjoying the feel of his bare skin against her fingertips.

Peter lets the paint roller fall to his side. "It becomes fun," he whispers and nips her earlobe. Claire thinks she might have felt his tongue trace the outer rim of her ear but he's moved to the other side of her face before she can decide. "And then you get to enjoy it," he says, his warm breath caressing her neck and making her even dizzier.

Claire bits her lip and when her eyes refocus on Peter, they are dark cobalt blue. "I always enjoy it," she tells him and steps off the stepstool, closing the space between them. She gazes into his eyes and, with Niki's words in her head (_just do it just do it just do it_), she wraps her arms around his neck and presses her lips to his.

Her kiss is sweet from the wine but there is an undercurrent of something else, something earthy and distinctly Claire. The taste of her burns his mouth and he feels himself spinning, falling into her. She kisses him with more experience than he would have expected, he kisses her with more heat and desire than he would have liked to admit. Her shirt rides up so there is a patch of skin against skin and Peter wants more, _needs _more, and splays a hand on her ribs. Before he can debate with himself whether or not to move his hand up, Claire pulls back and leaves him dazed in her wake.

"What was that?" he asks when he gets his bearings.

"Just applying some pressure," she sashays away.

Peter reaches for the abandoned wine bottle. It's going to be a long night.

friday may 16: 6:53 am

The apocalypse is coming.

That's the only thing that makes sense, the only thing Claire's brain can comprehend over the metal band that is practicing in her head. The light in her eyes, the light that is crashing through the windows, invading her sleep, making her think that maybe the world is ending, is too bright and it is far too early for an apocalypse – she hasn't even had any coffee yet.

Claire tries to roll over to avoid whatever is coming for as long as she can but she finds that only agitates her nauseous stomach. She tries again, slower this time but it still proves to be impossible, since Peter's arm is a dead weight across her body.

Despite the bright light, Claire's eyes fly open in panic. She almost screams at how much her bloodshot eyes hurt at the simple task of opening but she has far more important things on her mind. Looking down at herself, she finds herself clad in panties and a tank top and while it is not the best case scenario, it is much better than some of the alternatives.

Thinking about the alternatives, Claire feels herself hyperventilate and turns her head to glance at the clock. What catches her eyes is not the time but something that is on the floor.

Her bra.

Her pink bra is lying on the floor. Which means …

She is braless in bed with Peter.

Claire closes her eyes in defeat. What a complete and total nightmare. Nightmare with a capital N. What _happened _last night? She KNEW wine was a bad idea.

_Think_, she tells herself frantically. _Think_!

Nothing. Claire strains, trying harder, remembering her desire to paint the living, remembers the wine induced enthusiasm, the wine induced pressure kiss. But then, nothing.

_I am never drinking again_, Claire decides firmly but her resolution feels empty without the memories of last night to back it up. Claire stares back up at the ceiling and feels a lone tear make its way out of her eye. _You finally hooked up with Peter and you don't even remember it. Way to go_, she thinks despairingly.

Claire's pity for herself is cut short at the shrill sound of Peter's cell phone going off across the room. Peter grunts and reaches onto the end table nearest him to answer it. He gets to it too late and by the time he barks out, "what?" there is no one on the line.

"No one there babe," he mumbles and snuggles his head into the crook of her neck. "Go back to bed."

Claire counts in her head. _Three, two, one_…

"Claire?!" Peter sits up in surprise and confusion, looking every bit as close to hell as Claire feels. He blinks sleepily a few times and then slowly, deliberately, lifts up the covers. He breaths a sigh of relief at the sight of his boxers and untangles his legs from Claire's smooth ones.

His cell phone rings again and saves them from any awkward morning-after conversation. Turning, Peter answers, "Hello?"

It is Hiro, warning him that he will be there shortly. Peter mumbles a response that he isn't even sure is English and hangs up. When he turns back around, Claire and her smooth legs are no where to be found.

He sighs and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There is green paint streaked in his hair and small handprints scattered on his torso. Flashes of the night come back to him – Claire's infectious laughter as she tattooed his body with paint handprints, Claire applying pressure, Claire happy and smiling for the first time in a while. He groans and puts on a pair of sweatpants.

Wondering into the kitchen, he is not surprised to see Hiro already there, standing in front of Claire. Hiro raises his eyebrows at the paint covering Peter's torso but says nothing. Claire hears him enter and whips around, thrusting a clothes box and note into his hands.

"This was delivered to Isaac's this morning. Someone rang a bell and left it there. They didn't see who it was," Claire says and she is playing with the hem of her sweatshirt.

Peter looks at the box and note in his hands and tilts Claire's face up, forcing her to look at him. He says nothing as she averts his eyes and he opens the box apprehensively. He pulls out a gorgeous pale lavender dress. It is floor length and strapless and Peter knows instantly it will complement her alabaster skin and light blonde hair.

"It's the right size," Claire whispers and Peter's hands are shaking as he puts back the dress because that seems intimate and real and he can't focus.

Putting aside the box, he takes the note and notices it is on thick paper, suggesting quality, and the handwriting is blocky and slanted.

"It's a poem," Peter notes in surprise. He reads it out loud.

_The Light Wraps You (Pablo Neruda)_

_The light wraps you in its mortal flame.  
__Abstracted pale mourner, standing that way  
__against the old propellers of the twighlight  
__that revolves around you. _

_Speechless, my friend,  
__alone in the loneliness of this hour of the dead  
__and filled with the lives of fire,  
__pure heir of the ruined day. _

_A bough of fruit falls from the sun on your dark garment.  
__The great roots of night  
__grow suddenly from your soul,  
__and the things that hide in you come out again  
__so that a blue and palled people  
__your newly born, takes nourishment. _

_Oh magnificent and fecund and magnetic slave  
__of the circle that moves in turn through black and gold:  
__rise, lead and possess a creation  
__so rich in life that its flowers perish  
__and it is full of sadness._

Peter looks up at Claire and Hiro. "What the fuck?"


	6. Chapter 5: Never in Tune

note: This chapter a) went in a completely different direction than I had anticipated b) is longer than expected c) is slightly delayed due to midterms and the gin I consumed on Thursday night. ((gin is never a good idea)) But it's here, all 3100 words of it, so enjoy, don't hate me, and please review!

CHAPTER FIVE: Never In Tune

_Well, I've had this secret, and I feel it's time that you should know: when I'm in your arms, it turns me on. But I've got a conscience too, and it says my heart's never in tune, with anything I do. So this is the last time that I'll hold you hand. I want to kiss you on the mouth and tell you I'm your biggest fan._

_-- My Name is Trouble, Nightmare of You_

friday may 16: 7:58 am

"Peter, I think we need to consider the fact that maybe this guy isn't a superhero creep and maybe he's an actual stalker. There's nothing to suggest he has any sort of powers. He's sending Claire poetry – is that poem supposed to mean something? Sylar was deranged but he wouldn't toy with Claire like this. He'd go in and get her. I think it's time we got the police involved officially."

"Matt, is that going to do anything? We already have Micah going over the paper and doing all that CSI shit and we're not leaving her alone and Hiro is working on learning how to teleport a person so Claire doesn't have to go outside and expose her whereabouts. What are the police going to do?"

"Micah's _trying_ to do all the CSI shit and sure, he can make the computer do whatever he wants, but he doesn't have experience in deciphering it all and we're fucking guessing here. Hand these notes over to me and I'll make sure we get results as fast as humanly possible. Because if this isn't someone like us, we might be looking in all the wrong places."

Peter nods his ascent and slumps into a chair. "I just don't know what else to do," Peter says and he's helpless and scared and everything he can't show to Claire. "I don't know how to protect her, how to keep her safe."

"You're doing the best you can," reassures Matt. "Claire's a smart girl. She's doing everything we've asked her to do, she's taking extra precautions and allowing us to babysit and placate her. But this guy is being persistent. And there are a lot of unanswered questions – why is he delivering everything to Isaac's? If he's been following her, shouldn't he know she's here now? Why Claire? Does it have to do with her powers? Is it Sylar, back from wherever the hell he's been?"

"When is he going to take her?" Peter interjects miserably.

"Thanks for the confidence, Peter," Claire says breezing into the kitchen. Her face is pink from the shower and there are no traces of paint on her anywhere.

"Claire, I'm just - "

"Whatever," she dismisses him and drops two pieces of bread into the toaster.

There is a beat and Matt looks between the two, feeling awkward and in the middle of something. _We had a bit of a problem earlier_, Peter thinks at Matt. Matt frowns, knowing that for Claire and Peter to be terse with each other, something serious must have happened and that Peter's downplaying the situation greatly from him. He gets the subtle message.

"I'm gonna head out Claire. Stay safe, ok?" He kisses her cheek and gives her a hug. Nodding at Peter, Matt leaves the apartment quietly and the silence Peter and Claire are left with is deafening. Claire ignores Peter, embarrassed and unsure, and pours a glass of orange juice.

She sits down at the kitchen table and picks at some remaining paint underneath her fingernails.

"Claire…"

"Did anything happen last night? Did we have sex?"

Peter blinks at the abrupt question but Claire's face is stony. "No," he says, shaking his head.

"No? Are you sure? You remember? I woke up in your bed braless," she accuses.

"Yes, I remember. After you kissed me, we continued painting the walls and drinking wine and you got absolutely _silly_, it was sort of funny, actually - " Peter starts to smile as he remembers but stops at Claire's stoic glare. "And then you started using my chest as a place to finger paint, which was less fun for me. In retrospect, letting you drink wine and paint at the same time was a bad idea. But nothing else happened – we were both drunk but you were way drunker and there's no way I would have let anything happen like that. You insisted I sleep in the bed with you because of the paint fumes."

"Really?" Claire's voice is small and hopeful. She feels the nerves in her stomach settle, yet she can't help but feel a little bit disappointed that Peter hadn't made a move. It was pretty obvious _she_ was interested.

"Really." Peter takes a breath and frowns. "Do you smell something burning?"

"Yeah – oh crap. The toast!" Claire leaps up and pulls the blackened toast out of the toaster. She stares at it for a beat and bursts into tears.

"Claire? Claire, it's ok. It's just toast," Peter says, bewildered. He gathers her into his arms and smoothes her hair down, rubs his hands soothingly on her back.

"It's not just toast," Claire sobs. "It's my life. I have a stalker who buys me beautiful gowns and sends me _poetry_, I can't go anywhere on my own anymore, I'm a burden to everyone because now you all have to protect me again, I'm totally imposing myself on you and cramping your style. You had to switch shifts with the other hospice nurse who shares your patient because you can't leave me alone, I made you paint your own living room because I was bored, and to top it all off, I KISSED you last night."

"Oh Claire. Breath, honey. It's fine. Really. We're going to get to the bottom of all of this – together. You'll never be a burden to me." Peter gently uses his thumb to brush the tears off her cheeks. "And the kiss wasn't so bad."

Claire gives him a watery smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles gently at her and they lock eyes. Peter feels the moment freeze, watches almost abstractly as Claire's eyes flutter close and she tilts her head up ever so slightly to receive his kiss. He starts to lean down, WANTS to kiss her again and finally shift their relationship once and for all, but the tear tracks on her cheeks stop him. Peter Petrelli is nothing but a gentleman and he knows how delicate Claire's emotional state is right now and how something this huge (wooing Claire Bennet) deserves his full attention. The stalker will only get in the way and he won't have Claire loved any less than she properly deserves.

"Claire," he whispers softly and her eyes open. He sees shock flicker across her face, then watches as her cheeks color in embarrassment before hurt settles in and hardens her expression. She shakes herself out of his grasp, trying to touch as little of him as possible.

"Claire!" She leaves the room, her walk stiff and tight, her posture upright and uncomfortable, and Peter rubs his face in frustration. That certainly didn't go as he planned.

8:09 am

Claire gets ready for her internship in robot like fashion. She waits in the bedroom for as long as possible, waits to hear the knock on the door that signals Mohinder is here to take her to the internship, and tries as hard as she can not to think about how humiliated she is for thinking that maybe Peter felt the same way as she did.

She sits on the bed with her arms wrapped around her, wishing she hadn't kissed Peter last night, wishing she wasn't so young and naive. She cracks the door open a little more, eager to hear Mohinder's knock but instead hears Peter on the phone, in the middle of a conversation.

"…she was crying in my arms and I totally could have kissed her again and I didn't." There is a pause and Claire can hear Peter pacing in the kitchen, his steps echoing hollowly in Claire's head. "Fuck you Nathan. That's not the point. The point is that I will not kiss Claire again. Yeah, but we were drunk. It was a mistake."

Claire feels lightheaded, feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. She struggles to breathe as Peter speaks again, "Because she's a burden to everyone and she's attracted some crazy who sends her dresses and she's cramping my style, I had to switch shifts with the other nurse, you know – the usual."

Claire idly wonders if throwing up on Peter's carpet will help to heal her bruised heart; she dismisses the idea because she hates throwing up and the last thing she needs is Peter's fake sympathy. "Yeah, you know, I can't go on dates because she's here and I can't really go anywhere without her 'cause she can't be left alone. I can't. It's all very inconvenient. I'm not."

There is a knock on the front door and Claire stands on wobbly legs and hopes she can make it to the door. She takes a few tentative steps and her resolve hardens: she will not give Peter the satisfaction of seeing her like this. She hears Peter speak again. "I have to go. Mohinder just knocked on the door for Claire. I just needed someone to vent to. I love you Nathan, you know that."

Claire makes it to the door without her legs giving out and she is proud of herself for not looking at Peter. She smiles at Mohinder but her face feels rubbery and it is much too much effort. She wishes she could move out of Peter's, move in with Niki or Isaac or god, even Simone, because she's not sure she can face Peter ever again after the rejection and the horrible, horrible conversation she has overheard but she runs through her options and notes miserably that she is stuck.

12:42 pm

To: SAVE ME

_Em –_

_First and foremost, let me just say how much I miss you. My life is chaotic and I'm knee deep in research - I'm actually writing this from the lab on my lunch break – and I figured writing you an e-mail would be a nice break from my life._

_Research is going well. I'm working with Dr. Patrick on malaria research and it's really interesting. He's a great teacher and I am learning more and more every day. The other intern, Josh, is complete and utter man candy – he makes lab goggles look good, that's how cute he is! He's gonna be a senior and from the South too, so we've bonded a bit. I'll let you know if anything else happens there._

_How are you? How's Jersey treating you? I bet you're glad to be home in your own bed … my single is quiet without your alarm clock that makes farm animal noises. And you, I guess, haha. I helped Peter paint his living room last night and we had a really this weird conversation full of sexual tension and I kissed him and now it's awkward and I feel so dumb. Seriously, Em, he doesn't feel that way about me AT ALL. I overheard a conversation between him and his brother. It was absolutely terrible. I feel like someone put my heart in a blender._

_So if you want to make the trip up to the city sometime soon and take me and my smashed up heart out on the town, I'd love you even more than I already do. Hope your summer is going well so far!_

_Xoxo,_

_Claire_

As Claire pushes send on her e-mail of lies and vague truths, Josh comes into the lab and yells, "Time to get back to work Texas!"

"I'm coming South Carolina," she yells back and smiles the first true smile of the day.

As she pulls on her labcoat, Josh asks, "So you're 19, right?"

"Yeah."

"You have an ID?"

"Uh-huh."

"Does it scan?"

"Yup." _Thank you Micah_, Claire thinks.

"Perfect. Well, tomorrow is my 21st birthday so tonight, a bunch of buddies and I are going out to that new bar over near the Village. I'm not a big partier so I told them I'd just meet them there at midnight, have a few obligatory drinks. Would you be interested in going out to dinner with me beforehand and then we'll all meet at the bar and celebrate?" He shuffles his feet and smiles at her shyly, exposing a dimple in his left cheek.

Claire melts a little. "I'd love to, Josh."

He is visibly relieved. "Great. I'll pick you up at 8, we'll go to this really great Mexican place I know and have a nice, relaxing meal, before heading over to the club."

Claire smiles as she watches Josh move across the lab to his station but it's not with her usual force. She hates herself for wishing it was Peter asking her to a nice, romantic dinner, even after his cruel words.

7:38 pm

Claire throws open the apartment door and flies past Peter, Ando, and DL. "Hi DL! Hi Ando," she yells as she tears into the bathroom, frantic at the late time.

Ando and DL look at Peter for an explanation. "Don't ask me. We're having a bad day."

Ando's face turns to concern. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about it." They hear the shower turn on.

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"Thanks Ando but this is really a me and Claire thing," Peter says with a sad smile.

DL nods wisely. "It's about the flowers, isn't it? Man, I knew you blew it."

Peter laughs but it sounds as forced and hollow as it feels. "I wish it was as simple as flowers. Has Micah figured anything out?"

DL and Ando exchange a look at the conversation change but wisely don't mention it. "It's complicated. He figured out that the first and second notes were written by the same person, probably with the same pen. But this guy's good – everything is completely generic. The paper, the ink, everything. Hiro tried to talk to the people at the place where the flowers came from but they couldn't give him anything to go on so chances are even the guy is generic. Micah dusted for fingerprints or something equally as intense and got nothing again. We're basically where we started, which is nowhere."

"Great. This is just great. Now what do we do?"

_Wait_ is at the tip of DL's tongue and he's glad a knock at the door interrupts them so he doesn't have to say it. Peter gets up and peers through the peephole. He frowns and opens the door, keeping the safety chain on.

"What do you want?" he asks gruffly.

"Um, hi," comes the nervous answer. "I'm Josh Landward, I'm here to pick up Claire. I'm a little early."

"Pick her up for what?"

"For our date?" Peter unlocks the chain and lets him in.

"Watch him," he orders DL and Ando as he forces Josh into a chair. "Don't move," he barks at Josh.

"So, are you guys Claire's roommates?" he hears Josh ask nervously as he walks towards Claire's room.

"Claire?" he raises his hand to knock on her door but phases through it entirely instead. Claire is standing at her (_his_) dresser in a black bra and matching panties, applying mascara. Her hair is pulled back in an elegant bun and there is a black sundress with pink flowers on it laid out on the bed.

"Peter!" she exclaims, trying to shield herself from Peter's gaze.

"Shit," he says stumbling in. "The guy made me so unfocused, I forgot to block out DL's power."

Claire pauses with the mascara wand halfway to her eye. "The guy? Josh? Josh is here already? He's so early! And I was already running late because Mohinder was taking forever. Crap!"

"So you know the guy?"

"He's the other intern I do research with."

"And you're going on a date with him?"

"Yes."

"Alone? With your stalker out there on the prowl?"

"Peter, do you honestly think I am that stupid? Do you really think I'm that reckless? I called Claude, he's going to shadow us."

"He's back?"

"Yeah, I called him on the way to research this morning. What he's doing in Texas, following my fake dad, is important but I figured I needed him more and he caught the first flight back."

"So your father is going to be the chaperone on your date?"

"Peter, do you ever just make up your mind? One minute, you're nagging me because I'm going on a date without a chaperone and then next, you're nagging me because my chaperone is my father who happens to be an invisible man and a logical choice. Is ANYTHING I do good enough for you?"

Peter glares at her but doesn't answer. "Are you're wearing _that_ for h_im_?" Peter waves a hand up and down at her body, trying really hard not to linger on her perky breasts looking inviting and scintillating in their black lace cover.

Claire, who has thus far not mentioned Peter blatantly staring at her in her underwear, puts the mascara down and turns to face him. "Yes," she says defiantly, with her hands on her hip. "Do you have a problem with this?"

"Is he going to – to _see_?"

Claire shrugs, goes back to applying her makeup. "I don't know."

"You don't KNOW?"

"Oh fuck off Peter. What is it – you don't want me but no one else can have me?"

"That's not how it is, Claire."

"Oh really?" she asks, yanking on the sundress. "Because that's how exactly how it feels." She adjusts the straps and goes over to the closet for shoes.

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Then enlighten me!" Claire yells, brandishing pink kitten heels.

Peter says nothing and that tells Claire more than any words he has ever said.

"Exactly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a nice, sweet, smart guy waiting for me out there who could have taken any girl in the city as his date for his birthday and he chose me."

"It's summertime. There are limited options," Peter snarls, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Claire doesn't yell, doesn't hit him like he expects, like he _deserves_. Instead, she asks, her voice low and disappointed, "Is this all a game to you, Peter?"

"A game?"

"Yeah, you know, push Claire as far as you can, tease her with innuendo and touches and heated glances and see how much she can take, see how far she can go until she breaks and throws herself at you and then you get to reject her and laugh with your brother about how young and stupid she is? Is that what's been going on?"

"What? Claire-"

Claire grabs a black cardigan and her purse and pushes past Peter, her hand on the doorknob. She pauses and turns back to him and he finally sees her eyes, hurt and sad and glittering with unshed tears. "Because if that's the game you've been playing, congratulations. You've broken the indestructible girl."


	7. Chapter 6: Answering Bell

note: i posted a small cookie at my writing lj (hazelnutcoffee) earlier this week – the convo between peter and nathan we overheard from peter's side in chapter five. Feel free to check it out! This isn't my favorite chapter – writing it was a lot harder than I anticipated and I'm not sure how I stand on the final draft but it conveys what I wanted it to so hopefully it'll help y'all understand some stuff :)

CHAPTER SIX : Answering Bell

"_Let your tears fall and touch my skin, then your thunderclouds could rage and wail. Will collect them all for you in butterfly jars, and oh girl, I'll build your wishing well. But I'm just saying hi – to your answering bell."  
-__- "Answering Bell", Ryan Adams_

saturday may 17: 3:24 pm

"We need new board game partners," Claire announces uncomfortably. She picks at the remains of her nail polish and misses the glance DL and Ando exchange.

"How come?" Matt asks lightly, trying not to seem as interested as he is.

"I invited Claude. And since he's being moody and invisible and the only one who can see him is me, we need new partners," Peter explains, shooting a look of annoyance towards Claude.

"Claude? You invited Claude?" Simone whines. "He totally creeps me out."

"Careful love," comes Claude's accented voice from Claire's left. "You never know who is listening."

Simone blushes, embarrassed, and Claire smothers a laugh. She knows how short the list of people Claude has patience for is and she knows Simone will never, ever make it. She shoots a small smile in the direction she thinks he is in since Peter may have invited him but Claude's here for her and it's nice to have someone who's unconditionally in her corner.

"What if he cheats?" Micah asks, always the logical one. "None of us will know if he's looking at our cards or something."

"Micah, it's Monopoly," Peter reminds him gently. "There's not much secrecy. But I'll watch him, make sure he doesn't do anything wrong."

"Oh great," says Claire, her happy mood ruined. Glaring at Peter, she continues. "We're supposed to _trust_ you now? Since when have you become such a pillar of truth and honesty?"

"_Relax_ Claire," bites Peter. "I'm not going to lie about a board game."

Claire laughs and it's bitter and sharp and uncomfortable to hear. "Well, it's nice to know you have standards."

Claude appears suddenly and steps between his daughter and trainee. "Enough," he says firmly. "I'll be visible – and I'll have you know it's Petrelli that cheats, not me."

"Hey," Hiro says, breaking into their conversation before Peter can retort. "Let's pick the rest of the partners out of a hat and figure out the pieces. I want to be the racecar. Vroom vroom!" he adds with a smile for Claire's benefit. She doesn't return the smile, too busy giving a death glare to Peter's back, and Hiro's face falls.

Ando produces a hat and Matt writes everyone's names down on a piece of paper and rips and folds each into a smaller section. Claire ends up partners with Hiro and Hiro allows her to roll first, which finally earns him a small smile.

Ando and Mohinder bicker about whether to be the dog or the thimble and Isaac and Micah talk quietly, plotting a strategy out. DL tries to convince Matt to read the other's thoughts for an advantage. Niki and Simone sit silently next to each other, organizing their money, and trying to pretend like they can stand one another.

Everyone tries to ignore the angry tension in the air, radiating from Claire and Peter.

The doorbell rings before they can start the game and Peter answers it, since they are at his apartment. Two police detectives stand at the door. They look around Peter, into the apartment, and if they are amused by eleven grown ups of various racial backgrounds and one young adult sitting around playing Monopoly, nothing in their facial expression belies it. "Is there a Claire Bennet here?"

"I'm Claire Bennet," Claire says, standing and walking towards them. "Why do you ask?"

"Miss Bennet, we need to know where you were last night between the hours of 3 and 4 AM."

Claire frowns, confused. "I was here, in bed. Why?"

Matt walks across the room. "Bill, Alex, what's going on?"

The two men absently nod hello at Matt and continue directing questions at Claire. "Miss Bennet, are you aware that Josh Landward was murdered this morning?"

Claire's eyes go wide and she stumbles, putting a hand on the chair to steady herself. "What? How? When? Oh my god, I was just with him last night."

"His … body was found outside his apartment building this morning by his landlady. We already talked to his friends, who confirmed that you are the last person he was seen alive with. Any information you have would be greatly appreciate." The last sentence is not a request and the hidden message is not missed by anyone in the room.

"Today's his birthday," Claire says softly. "He – he asked me out to dinner yesterday at our internship – we both work on malaria research with Dr. Patrick at the NYU labs - and he picked me up here at 8. We went to this Mexican place near work, Caliente's, and then we met up with his friends at a bar in the Village. We had a few drinks, celebrated his birthday, and he took me home around 2:15. He said he'd call me."

"Did anyone see you when you came home?"

"Guys, is she a suspect?" Matt asks, suddenly on guard.

"We're just trying to follow all leads," the detective on the left answers vaguely.

Claire worries her lip. It's on the tip of her tongue to say that her father was with them all night but that creates all sorts of problems – number one being as soon as the door was opened, Claude made sure he was invisible and number two, he has been "missing" (considered dead?) for over fifteen years. Then she remembers Peter. "Peter was still up," Claire says, relieved to have thought of someone who's visible.

"Who is Peter?"

"I am," Peter says from his position near the door. His eyes are hard and his posture tight, obviously disliking what the detectives are suggesting. "I'm her roommate. I saw her come home at 2:15. I remember specifically because I gave her a hard time about it."

Claire rolls her eyes and she almost retorts that Peter didn't give her a hard time, he _grilled_ her, asked all sorts of questions about Josh and their date, and subsequently got pissed when she goaded him with a line about how she wasn't the type of girl to kiss and tell. She keeps her mouth shut since a fight in front of the police isn't a good idea and because Josh is dead and there is a sinking feeling in her stomach that it's her fault.

"Ok then," the detective on the right says, busily scribbling details down in a notebook. "Do you have a number we can reach you at, in case we have more questions?"

As Claire gives them her cell number and the number of Peter's apartment, Matt asks, "Just out of curiosity, how are you sure he was murdered?"

The taller detective looks up and gives Matt a flat stare. "The body was found outside of his apartment building. Half his skin was burned off. He looked like a fire victim, except there was no fire."

Claire knows she won't make it to the bathroom; she simply runs to the garbage and vomits so hard, her stomach aches for hours afterwards.

5:11 pm

On Saturday nights, Claire attends a small church around the corner from her dorm. She likes the dark interior, the quiet reverence, the priest that thunders from the pulpit about sin and wickedness and redemption. She sits next to the same old woman every week, enjoys the feel of her worn, leathery skin against her own as they clasp hands to recite the Old Father.

The Haitian taught her she possesses a gift from God. The church around the corner doesn't teach her understanding but it makes her feel a little more human, one of many struggling to find answers.

Peter's waiting for her on a bench outside the church and she is so numb, she can't work up any anger at the arm he puts protectively around her shoulders or the effort to shrug it off. Peter raises his other arm to catch a taxi and the traffic lights blend together in an astonishing array of color as Claire stares with unfocused eyes.

6:06 pm

It has never ceased to amaze him at how much you can learn by simply watching someone. Mannerisms, tiny facial movements, body language – all of that, when interpreted correctly, are gleams into the psyche of a person.

The man watches Peter try to shield Claire from something as he helps her into the cab. It's almost amusing, how hard he's trying to be a hero. It's almost enough to make him walk up to Peter and discuss his course of action. _You don't even know what I look like_, he wants to tell him. _You have no idea how old I am or what sort of powers I have or how I will take Claire. You're trying so hard and it's so pathetic. Because how can you protect her when you've not even sure what to look for?_

He slides his eyes over to Claire, who is sitting hunched into herself in the cab. She's blaming herself for Josh's death, anyone with eyes can see this, and his heart aches for her. He knows he went overboard with the kid, he certainly never intended to _kill_ him but … control never was his strong point. To be honest though, it was a wake up call, watching in shock as the kid's skin blistered and burned – a big fat reality check. He's been so focused on Claire, so amazed by the simple solution that has been presented to him, that he didn't quite realize how _intense_ he had been acting.

It's a downfall – when he gets emotional about something, he can't help but become ablaze with passion.

The cab pulls into the stream of traffic, blending with all the other cars, and he watches until he no longer knows which one she's in. He thinks back to the last time he had a plan, back when Bennet was going to be his savior. He frowns remembering how well that turned out, remembering how all his careful planning went right down the drain after he tracked Bennet down, and begged him for a cure, only to be strapped to that damn cot in a metal cell. There are days missing from his life thanks to Bennet and instead of a cure, he was given betrayal and anger – which maybe is a blessing since that's how he was able to get out of that nuthouse.

And then he spent years in the Nevada desert, alone, because he was frightened and confused and betrayed. He certainly couldn't bear the thought of hurting someone else. Being radioactive by _nature_ isn't very conducive to being a functioning member of society.

It's a hardship he's had to deal with, all those lonely days in the desert with no one to talk to. Finding Claire, finding someone out there that's compatible - it was like discovering what hope was all over again. Finally, someone who wouldn't be hurt by him, someone who wouldn't cower and be afraid.

Someone who would keep him company.

11:15 pm

Claire pads into the kitchen to get a glass of water and finds Peter there. He is still dressed in his clothes from earlier, hasn't gone to bed yet. She, on the other hand, had came home from church and passed out, too emotionally exhausted to stay awake. "Are you ok?"

"No," Claire says, pulling out a chair, too tired to work her way past Peter and deal with it all. "Bad dream."

"Want to talk about?" Peter asks gently.

"Not really," Claire confesses and puts her head down on the cool table.

"Ok. Well, I'm here if you need me." There's a pause before, "want some water?" Peter asks and he phases through the refrigerator door to grab the Brita filter.

"Show off," Claire mutters and there's a trace of a teasing tone. Peter puts the glass in front of her and gingerly sits down at an opposite chair, glad she is talking to him but not wanting to do anything that would garner the silent treatment again.

"That's nothing," he grins. "Watch this." He concentrates and breaks the glass in his hand. Shards of glass shatter onto the table but Claire is unimpressed.

"That's not showing Jessica's strength," she points out. "I could probably do that."

"That's not what you were supposed to be watching." Peter unfurls his hand to display a shard of glass stuck in his palm. It is bleeding profusely and he pulls the glass out of his hand with a small grunt.

"You better heal before you get blood over everything," Claire says with a stern voice. "That cut is deep – it'd probably need stitches." Claire flashes back to the day she found out she was a cheerleader – the cut in the same place on her palm, her surprise and shock at how fast it healed when her father unwrapped the bandage.

"That's the point - I'm not going to use your power. My body naturally wants to heal because it's copied your regeneration gene and is accustomed to using it at the appropriate times but Claude's been teaching me to block out powers, to recall them only when I want to use them."

"Very cool Peter," Claire says wearily. "But seriously, the cut is deep. Show's over."

"No," Peter says, bringing his hand to the sink and turning the water on his cut. The water turns pink as it mixes with the blood. "Not until you talk to me." Peter watches Claire retreat back into herself. It is like watching a hermit crab – she hunches her shoulders over, stares down at the floor, looks years younger, infinitely more insecure. "I'm serious Claire. I don't care if you actually have to take me to the emergency room, I'm not healing this cut unless you talk to me."

Claire says nothing. The cut concerns her but her heart concerns her more and she isn't sure she can voice the pain she is feeling.

"Fine," Peter says angrily. "I'll start then. What did you mean when you asked me if this was all a game yesterday?"

"Please Peter, do we really have to do this? You played me, you got your laugh, can we please move on to something else, like never talking again?"

"What are _you_ talking about Claire?"

"I heard you on the phone yesterday! When you were talking to Nathan and told him our kiss was a mistake and I was an inconvenience and I'm holding back your love life because you can't go on dates. I heard it all, ok?"

"Claire-"

"And sure, maybe my crush is a little inappropriate. You're like eight years older and have a career and everything and I'm still in college. But you're the only person who _gets_ me, who understands what's it like to be different and feel like you don't fit in and have a family that you're nothing like. And, the truth is, I'm so lonely it physically hurts sometimes, and god, Niki told me it was probably just a case of hero worship, but you're the _only_ one who has _ever_ made any difference and sometimes it's something so simple as the way you look at me. And then part of me thinks maybe this whole thing isn't one sided and to hear that conversation, it killed me. Killed me to know what you truly thought of me, killed me to know that you'd talk to _Nathan_ about it all. Nathan, who has never given me the benefit of the doubt! And then I felt nothing but stupid that I ever thought someone like you would be interested in me. And now someone that actually was interested in me is dead and this is the second person who has died because of me and maybe it would be better if my stalker just took me."

Peter stares at her, wide eyed because of all the things he thought she was going to say, none of that was it. "Ok," he says. "Ok," he repeats, in an attempt to get his bearings. "First things first. It would never be better if your stalker took you. And we don't know for sure Josh died because of you – he was wandering around NYC at 2:30 in the morning alone. We don't know all the facts, we will wait and see and deal with it when the situation arises."

Claire nods because those are exactly the words of comfort she needs to hear.

"And that conversation you heard between me and Nathan? Not the whole conversation. I told him what you were upset about – that was the inconvenience and date thing – I was just repeating what _you_ said. And when I said the kiss was a mistake, I was trying to convince myself just as much as I was trying to convince Nathan. And Nathan – Nathan, my obnoxious, self-absorbed older brother – called me out and told me that all I do is make excuses to not get with you and it was time to … what were his words? Grow some balls and make a move." Claire giggles. Peter is encouraged, "You are not nor have you ever been a game to me, Claire. I swear."

"So…you like me?" Claire asks and winces at how absolutely juvenile it sounds.

"Yeah," Peter smiles crookedly, the same smile that has made Claire always feel infinitely better. "I like you."

"And the kiss?"

"Not a mistake."

"Good," says Claire, all business now. "Then let's heal this cut." She marches over to him and turns off the water. Carefully drying his palm with a paper towel, she puts feather like pressure on the edges of the cut, angry and pink. Blowing softly on the cut, she says, "You just need a good doctor."

Peter blinks. It's pretty fucked up that he's a real life nurse but he needs a gorgeous college student to help him heal a cut. There's a dozen suggestive things on the tip of his tongue, a dozen dirty sex jokes, and if he hadn't dreamt about most of them already, maybe he'd tell her one, just to see her reaction.

But Claire is still broken, from Josh's death and his rejection and her emotions are in overdrive, so instead he concentrates and the cut disappears before their eyes. Sighing, he pulls Claire into his arms and presses a kiss to her forehead. Claire snuggles into his chest, exhaling slowly, and Peter finally feels at peace.


	8. Chapter 7: Why Can't I?

note: you should be glad i have no resolve. i had a (planned) 4 hour layover in my flights to go home for easter break and now i'm delayed (at least) 2.5 hours. so i sucked it up and paid for internet so i could post this. y'all better be happy ;)

CHAPTER SEVEN: Why Can't I?

_Here we go, we're at the beginning. Haven't fucked yet, but my head's spinning. Why can't I breathe whenever I think about you? Why can't I speak whenever I talk about you? It's inevitable, it's a fact that we're gonna get down to it. So tell me – why can't I breathe whenever I think about you?_

"_Why Can't I?", Liz Phair_

thursday may 22 6:11 pm

"Take a look at my girlfriend, she's the only one I got," Claire sings along with the radio, dancing in the kitchen to Gym Class Heroes. "Not much of a girlfriend – I never seem to get a lot. Ba ba ba da!"

Peter's at work and Claire's on super-strict house arrest in the wake of Josh's death, with the exception of her internship, which also means she is going stir crazy. Claude is the babysitter of choice today and she knows he is around somewhere because they were talking before but he's disappeared now which makes dancing like an idiot to music a lot easier. She feels silly and stupid but she's also not dwelling on Josh's death, which is a step in the right direction.

"I love the way she calls my cell phone, even got her own ring tone. If that ain't love, then I don't know what love is," Claire continues as she stirs the pasta and makes sure the Italian bread isn't burning.

Claire pauses when she hears a sound that is not in the song. Quickly turning down the radio, she grabs the baseball bat Peter left out for her (just in case!) and runs towards the door. She's sure Claude is around her too but it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

The doorknob turns.

"Jesus Christ, Peter," Claire says, slumping and resting the bat on her shoulder. "I thought you were my st – someone trying to break in," she finishes lamely when she sees that there are people behind Peter.

"Claire, you'll never guess who I ran into on the subway today," he grins too brightly at her, as if trying to give her a message. "This is my old college roommate, Doug, and his brother, Steven, and Steven's boyfriend, Mike. Guys, this is my roommate, Claire."

"Nice to meet you," Claire says extending a hand to each of the men. "Are you guys hungry? I'm just making pasta, it's not a problem to throw in more. It's pretty much the only thing I can cook that I won't burn, so you're in luck." She smiles at them, glad to have human contact that isn't preoccupied with keeping her safe from her stalker.

Peter's friends all look at each other and shrug. "Sure," says Steven. "Why not?" Claire beams and heads back into the kitchen.

"Peter, I thought you weren't getting home for another hour," she yells over the sound of boiling water and the kitchen fan.

"My patient's wife came home early," Peter yells back, taking the guys coats and hanging them up in the small hall closet. "Where's -"

"Around here somewhere," Claire says, peaking her head around the corner. "Our cat," she improvises to the questioning glances from the guests. She steps out of the kitchen, holding a sauce ladle in one hand and the other positioned underneath to catch any sauce that falls. "Here," she says, thrusting it in Peter's mouth. "Taste."

"Mmmm," he says, licking his lips and holding her gaze. "You added something new."

"Chef's secret," she winks and heads back into the kitchen, humming the song from before, her curls bouncing with every step. Peter's eyes follow her the entire way, a small smile on his face. Claire looks relaxed and happy for the first time in a few days, dressed in tight fitting jeans and a cotton shirt that declares everything is bigger in Texas. Peter snaps his eyes back to his guests but it is too late – he's been caught.

"Dude," Doug whistles lowly. "THAT'S the roommate you told us about? What's the deal?"

"We're friends," Peter hedges, not really wanting to get into the situation.

Steven raises an eyebrow. "Friends? As in, you're definitely not getting any?" he asks.

Peter nods. "Well," says Mike. "I'm gay and even I know that is a shame."

Claire interrupts their conversation and calls for Peter to set the table. She wastes no time putting the guests to work with folding napkins and finding a big enough pasta bowl. When the pasta is ready, she sets a bowl and some sauce aside for Claude, who is probably waiting for the best possible time to exit. She sits at the table and says brightly to Doug, "So tell me some stories about Peter at college."

Peter protests but Claire just waves him quiet. "Hush, you." She turns back to Doug. "Tell me the best story you can think of."

Doug thinks for a while and then smiles. "Ok, there was this one time we all went out to the bars. And Peter pregamed a little too heavily, because he was nervous about seeing this girl he liked, and by the time we got to the bar, he was done for. So he makes a fool of himself in front of – what was her name, Peter?"

"Libby," Peter says darkly.

"Libby and then he has another drink. But he wanders off before any of us can stop him and eventually we loose him. And this is before cell phones and everything, so Peter assumes we've all already left and leaves the bar but he doesn't have his shoes on! And they weren't sandals or anything, these are shoes with laces and everything. The bouncer tried to stop him because he must have looked so ridiculous but Peter tells him it isn't worth it and just leaves! He's so drunk, he walks home in his socks. He never did find his shoes."

"Peter!" Claire says, giggling. "I never expected you to be like that in college."

"I wasn't," Peter says, shooting Doug a glare. "It was just one bad night."

Claire pulls Peter close to her briefly in a side hug. "It's ok. You have more than enough embarrassing stories about me."

Mike looks interested. "Do tell."

Claire sticks out her bottom lip and does her best sad eyes but Peter looks at her impassively, until a hint of a smile appears at the edges of his mouth. "You asked for stories about me, it's only fair."

"Ok, fine. But remember what I said last time you declared war," she winks.

8:22 pm 

"Thanks for dinner," Steven waves as he puts on his coat and follows his boyfriend and brother out the door. Peter has his arm around Claire's waist and as they wave goodbye to their guests, he cannot help but think that this feels very couple-y – hosting guests for dinner, having a few laughs, sharing some stories, waving goodbye.

"That was fun," Claire declares and Peter nods. "I like your friends. You should invite them over more." She turns to face him and puts her arms around his neck, standing on her tip toes to even out their height difference. They hold their gaze for a minute, a small smile gracing her face. "Hi," she says softly.

"Hi," Peter whispers back, leaning his forehead to touch hers. "How was your day?"

"Good," she replies and she's still whispering and she doesn't know why. "Better now," she flirts.

"Yeah?" Peter asks and his bangs are in his eyes.

"Yeah," she breathes and Peter leans into her, their lips a breath away. **Claire's stomach flips and she's nervous but it's in the good way because ever since their talk the other day, Peter's been flirty and friendly but he hasn't crossed the line.** And Claire's still apprehensive since the last time she made a move, it ended with misunderstanding and heartbreak and she just needs him to kiss her first before she's completely convinced.

"Oh god," comes a voice to Claire's right and Claire jumps away just at their lips meet. "Just wait until I leave for God's sake. I really don't need to see my daughter and protégé shagging."

"Claude!" Peter hisses, embarrassed.

"Relax, relax, I'm leaving now. Clearly she's in capable hands now that you're home," he leers and the door opens and closes.

Claire leans her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes. "Is he really gone?"

Peter nods, smoothing her hair out. "Yeah." But the mood is broken and Claire shakes herself out of his arms and walks into the bedroom to grab some of the reading material Dr. Patrick has given her about malaria and various research that has come before them. Peter silently curses his luck and Claude before sighing and taking a seat on the couch. He picks up the remote and turns the TV on low. Claire wanders out with her hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail and props her feet up on Peter's lap before pulling out a highlighter and furrowing her brow in concentration.

Peter absent mindedly rubs Claire's bare calves while watching a sitcom on TV and somewhere in the back of his mind is the thought _I could get used to this._

"It's really raining," Peter remarks after a while. Claire looks up, having been lost in concentration. She cocks her head and listens to the violent cracks of thunder and angry gales of rain.

"I love thunderstorms. We don't have too many in Texas."

"No, I guess you wouldn't," Peter says and he impatiently pushes a lock of hair out of his eyes. Claire loves Peter's hair, it's one of her favorite things about him. She vividly remembers meeting him for the first time in Texas, his bangs in his face, his voice low and urgent and trying so hard to be casual as he asks about Jackie, thinking she is the cheerleader he needed to save. And later, when she visited him in jail and he was bloody and coughing, she remembers how the lights made his hair look blueish black against his pale skin and how, even then, she had to resist the impulse to brush his hair back and kiss his temple.

Claire watches him with careful eyes before making her decision. She gets up from her place on the couch and putters around the apartment, gathering everything she'll need. She leaves them in the kitchen before going back to where Peter is sitting. He looks up from the TV and his bangs are in his eyes again, reaffirming Claire's decision.

She holds out her hand to him and he takes it slowly. She pulls him up from the couch and leads him into the kitchen. Sitting him in one of the chairs, she places the towel on his shoulders and fusses with his hair a bit. The feel of his silky locks against her soft palms is erotic and Claire is immediately reminded of another, more intimate time she has done this, back when she was loopy on wine and kissed him.

"Claire?" he asks hesitantly. "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a haircut," Claire says, picking up the scissors from the counter.

"Do you know how?" Peter asks and Claire thinks she detects just a slight note of nervousness.

"Peter, are you _nervous_? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes. But we're talking about scissors and my hair."

"Peter, I promise not to mess up your hair. I know how important it is to you."

"It's not _that_ important," Peter protests and Claire snorts as she begins to cut his hair, expertly snipping half an inch off the hair on the back of his head.

"Please Peter. You spend as much time on your hair in the morning as I do. And that's saying something."

"Maybe so, but isn't it worth it? I make bangs look good." Peter drawls the last word in an exaggerated manner.

Claire rolls her eyes but smiles and continues cutting. "Yeah," she admits. "You do look good with bangs."

"Sexy, perhaps?" tries Peter.

Claire shakes her head, laughing softly. "Don't push it mister. I'm the one with the scissors."

"So you think that gives you the power?"

"I think it does in this situation." She shifts until she is standing in front of him to work on the front of his hair.

"What about other situations?" Peter asks cautiously.

Claire, painfully aware of their close proximity and still tingling from their almost-kiss before, says lightly, "Well, I think it would depend on the situation. There are of course times when you are going to be able to, you know, take the lead."

Claire pairs her words with another shift so that her chest is now eye level with Peter's eyes and she is certain he is getting a wonderful view of her cleavage. She silently compliments herself on the foresight to wear the black lacy bra Peter oogled her in a week ago. "And just how would you respond to me taking the lead?" he asks.

"Well," Claire swallows. "I'm very good at following directions." She leans in a little closer. "And I'm a very fast learner," she confides. "And there may even be times when I'll improvise," she adds wickedly.

Claire wobbles a bit as she stands up to finish cutting Peter's hair. He reaches his hands out and places them on her waist, helping to steady her. Peter applies slight pressure, drawing her just a bit closer, and does not remove his hands. His touch is feather light but Claire's skin feels like it is on fire. It doesn't help when Peter moves his thumbs underneath her t-shirt and rubs them in small, slow circles on her protruding hipbones.

Claire thinks if she breaks her promise and messes up by snipping his ear off, she shouldn't be blamed because it's all Peter's hands fault.

"But don't you think your improvisation will compromise my taking the lead?" His voice holds a husky quality it did not have before and Claire is glad she's not the only one affected.

"Oh no," Claire says. "I'm very talented. I think you'll appreciate my _improvisation_." She takes a deep breath purposefully, causing her breasts to rise and fall and Peter groans softly.

"Touché," he whispers and moves his hands from her hipbones to her back and pulls him towards her. She drops the scissors on the counter and they clatter loudly in the suddenly silent apartment. Claire straddles his waist and slides her hands into his newly cut hair. Peter closes the non-existent distance between them and captures her lips with his own. This kiss is different from the last one; it holds an urgency and passion that surprises Claire, especially considering Peter's self-control these past few days.

Peter touches his tongue to her bottom lip and Claire opens her mouth eagerly, feeling a bolt of desire flash deep in her as their tongues touch. She loves the way their lips fit perfectly, the way Peter uses his bottom lip to guide her, the way she wishes they could do this all day. Her heart beats wildly in her chest and Peter's hands move up her torso, underneath her shirt, and trace the outline of her lacy bra. Claire arches into his touch, willing his hands to continue their rise up her body, wanting to feel his hands caress her. Peter gives in to Claire's not-so-subtle message and cups her breasts, teasing her by moving his hands over her slowly. Claire whimpers at the light touch and her body arches even further.

Peter moves his mouth slowly down her neck, placing feather soft kisses everywhere. He comes to the juncture between Claire's neck and shoulder and sucks there lightly. She tilts her head to give him more room and sighs softly. Claire is certain she'd have a hickey in the morning if she was capable of getting one. Grinning against her skin at the small noises Claire is making, Peter bites gently and then blows cold air on the spot. She starts slightly at the sensation, bucking her pelvis into his unconsciously, and Peter growls at the movement.

"Peter," Claire's hardly capable of coherent thought. As Peter moves his mouth back to hers, there is a large clap of thunder and a bolt of lightening that lights up the entire apartment and Claire jumps, startled.

This jump does not have the same effect as the last one. Claire grabs at Peter's shoulders, in a poor attempt to stay upright but topples to the floor anyway. Her tight grasp brings him with her and they end up on the floor in a tangle of confused, groping legs and arms.

"Oof!" Claire says as most of Peter's weight ends up on her. He blinks, trying to assess where his limbs begin and hers end and wills his body to ignore the rather personal and provocative position he has found himself in atop Claire.

For a moment all he can do is stare at the beautiful face surrounded by wild, out of control blonde curls beneath him, her lips slightly swollen and her eyes dark with desire.

Claire tries to regain the use of her lungs and as soon as she can breathe again, she finds them captive to peals of laughter that escape from her lips.

Peter leans up on one side, their legs still tangled, and watches her laugh. The mood has been broken again but he doesn't mind. Eventually, Claire's laughter trails off and she wipes the tears of laughter out of her eyes. She notices Peter watching her intently and gets self-conscious.

"What?" Claire asks finally. "Is my mascara smudged?"

"No," Peter answers softly. He reaches over and pushes a strand of curly hair behind her ears. He continues to observe her, his eyes following the curve of her neck and the slope of her shoulders. He lingers on the swell of her breast and her smooth, taunt stomach, exposed slightly from the fall. He caresses her face with one hand, lets it fall to rest on her hip. "You look perfect," he says and he means it with every ounce of his being.

Claire snuggles into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. "Aren't you glad I improvised?"

"I'm not sure that was improvising," Peter admits. "I'm pretty sure you were in control the whole time."

Claire gives him a _who me_ look. "I don't know what you're talking about." Peter just shakes his head, clearly not believing her. Claire laughs, caught. "I told you I'm a fast learner."


	9. Chapter 8: Weather and Noise

note: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R for sexual situations. It'll probably be the only r-rated chapter so if you're uncomfortable with this, e-mail me and I'll give you a summary of what happens. Otherwise, you have been warned so enjoy the super-extra long chapter!

CHAPTER EIGHT: Weather and Noise

_She's nothing but porcelain underneath her skin…American girls are weather and noise, playing the changes for all of the boys. Holding a candle right up to my hand, making me feel so incredible…_

_-- American Girls, Counting Crows_

friday may 23: 11:12 am

_To: Re: SAVE ME_

_My dearest darling roomie:_

_I apologize for the belatedness (is that a word?) of this e-mail, my parents dragged me and the brats off to my grandparents for a week, which meant NO INTERNET. There was TV at least but still, who doesn't have the internet in this day and age?_

_But anyway, I am back in Jersey and while I am so excited to see your e-mail, I must say the contents concerned me. YOU KISSED PETER? How was it? I can't believe that you didn't call me immediately. And what is this bullshit about how Peter doesn't feel that way about you? Are you serious? Whenever you two are in a room together, all you do is send out serious "I want you" vibes. And I know I've told you about the eye sex you two have. I want a phone call ASAP with details. Actually, screw that. I'm coming up tonight to visit. I'll stay the weekend, we can eat lots of Ben and Jerry's and watch cheesy Lifetime movies with awful titles like Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? and if you're up to, we'll go out and find you a Peter replacement._

_I miss you girl, cheer up, you'll see me in a few hours!!_

_Xoxo,_

_Emily_

_PS: Any progress with Josh?_

12:02 pm _Sidekick message from Claire to Emily:_

You are a week behind in my life. Come to Peter's apartment when you come into the city. I have a lot to fill you in on.

12:09 pm _Sidekick message from Emily to Claire:_

Peter's apartment?? I'm guessing that you worked everything out – you better be getting some!

5:42 pm

Peter's waiting for her on a bench outside of her internship. Mohinder does his duty to the letter and stands patiently with her until Peter crosses the street and is in front of them before catching a cab home. Peter's soaking wet from the rain that hasn't stopped since last night's thunderstorm and his hands are cold as he interlaces his fingers with hers.

"No umbrella?"

Peter shrugs. "I love rain." His clothes are plastered to him, showcasing his body, and his bangs are wet enough to slick back behind his ears. His jeans look black from the rain and his thin button down shirt is almost see through. He puts an arm around Claire and she squirms at the feeling of the wet fabric against her neck.

Claire hails a taxi and the cab driver mutters under his breath at the sight of drenched Peter and less-than-dry Claire. "It's a mess out there," offers Claire as an apology. The cab driver says nothing so she turns to Peter. "You didn't have to come meet me. Mohinder would have dropped me home."

"I got out of work early. I wanted to see you," Peter whispers into her ear, nipping at the sensitive flesh behind her ear. He places a hand on her thigh, his cold palm a sharp contrast to her warm skin, and slides it up to an almost inappropriate area. Claire gasps and whispers sternly, "Peter!" Her body betrays her desire though as it tingles in anticipation. Angling his body over hers so if the cabbie looks back he cannot see Claire, Peter greedily captures her lips, his lips blue from his time out in the rain.

After a few heated minutes, the cab arrives at Peter's building. Claire slips out of the cab and spins in the rain for a minute while Peter pays. Laughing, they hold hands and run into the building. Once inside Peter's apartment, Peter traps Claire against the wall, nudging a leg between hers and kisses her.

"We're dripping water everywhere," Claire gasps as she tries to catch her breath from Peter's kisses.

"Claire," he complains, tracing the curve of her collarbone with his tongue.

"Ok," Claire says, pulling his shirt out of his jeans and beginning to unbutton it. "Less talk, more action."

Peter responds to her declaration by unzipping her sundress. It pools at her feet, leaving her in her strapless bra and panties. "No fair," Claire says as she struggles with the last button of his shirt.

Peter impatiently pushes his shirt off and puts his hands on either side of her face. "You're beautiful," he says. This time, when their lips meet, Claire gives as good as she gets, energized by Peter's words and the sensual feeling of the contrast of wet and dry. Claire moves her hands down to undo his belt buckle and get him out of his jeans. She has a bit of trouble when the wet fabric sticks to his skin but Peter hops a few times and kicks the jeans away.

"Peter," Claire groans as he grinds his hips into hers, sending shock waves through her body. His hands are all over her and she's quivering at this point, "Make love to me."

Peter hesitates and pulls back to look at her. She steps out from under him and reaches back to unclasp her bra. Waving it in the air, she walks towards the bedroom. She hears Peter follow her and laughs as she runs into the bedroom and hops on the bed. He lands next to her and moves to straddle her. He kisses her softly on the mouth before moving to her neck, her jaw, her ears. Claire moans as Peter continues his way down her body, lavishing attention to her breasts, pressing an open kiss to her bellybutton, before fluidly removing her panties.

She has her petite hands on his boxers, working them down his body, when Peter puts a hand on hers, stilling her movement. "Claire, are you sure?" Peter asks and Claire nods, eyes big and bright. "Because I don't want to rush into this if you're not ready. You have to be ready. It's a big step and I don't want you to feel like you have to do it with me just because I'm older or I expect you to or something." He's babbling but all Claire can think is _uh-oh_.

"Peter?" she says in a small voice.

"Yeah?"

"This … isn't my first time."

Peter stills, shocked. "What?"

"I did it once with Zach, back in Texas."

"Zach? Your friend who videotaped you breaking every bone in your body? Zach, the one who's at UCLA now?"

Claire nods. "Uh-huh."

Peter purses his lips and looks away. "Ok," he says slowly. "Ok." He wants desperately to demand an explanation but he knows that's the wrong thing to do and he waits for Claire to speak.

Claire wriggles out from underneath him and hides under the sheets, uncomfortable with her nakedness now that they are simply talking. "Well, it was just once. Before I left for college. Zach had just kissed a boy for the first time and he came to me, freaking out, saying he had always known he was gay but had never admitted it to anyone and now kissing the boy made it sort of official and he was worried because he'd never really given girls a try, you know like a _try_ try, and I wanted my first time to be with someone I trusted and was comfortable with. And so, we – you know – and it was fine and he was even pretty, um, attentive for someone who didn't even like girls and afterwards, he decided he was definitely gay and we've never really mentioned it since."

"And you were ok with it? And safe and everything?"

Claire flushes, embarrassed to be discussing the last time she had sex with the person she wants to have sex with now. "_Yes_," she hisses. She pulls the sheets completely over her head. "God, this sucks. All I wanted to tell you was that ok, yeah, I haven't had sex in a while but you're not my first so be gentle but don't be like _so_ gentle and now I'm just humiliated."

Peter picks up the sheets and curls up next to her. The light coming through is tinted blue. Peter's eyes are dark and serious. "Hey," he tilts her chin so she is forced to look at him. "Don't be embarrassed. Communication is important in a relationship. I'm glad you told me. And I don't care if this isn't your first time. This is your first time with _me_ and that's all I care about. I'm still going to be gentle and go slow and make this as special for you as possible because I'm falling in love with you and I just want to make you happy."

Tears spring to Claire's eyes. "You're falling in love with me?" she asks shakily.

"Yeah," Peter admits, a slow smile gracing his face. Claire reaches over and pulls his face to hers.

"I'm falling in love with you too," she whispers and kisses him slowly as she moves her body on top of his.

8:17 pm

Peter pads out to the kitchen to get some water. He opens the refrigerator and grabs two water bottles. Just as he turns to head back into the bedroom, he hears a knock on his door. Sighing, he checks the peephole and sees Claire's roommate, Emily, making faces at him.

He opens the door, painfully aware he is clad only in boxers a moment too late. "Emily! What a surprise. Claire didn't tell me you were coming."

Emily's eyes widen and she lets her gaze linger on his bare chest and sculpted arms. "Am I interrupting something?" she asks, echoing his words from weeks ago.

"No, no," Peter stutters. "Come in." Peter opens the door further and Emily hikes her small duffle over her shoulder and follows Peter inside. She casts a glance at the floor, where Peter's shirt and jeans and Claire's dress are lying discarded, and gives Peter a look. Before she can say anything, they hear Claire calling.

"Pe-ter. What's taking so long? I'm going to take a shower, do you want to join?" Claire walks into the living room with a dark blue sheet wrapped loosely around her body. Her face breaks into a smile as she sees Emily and she shouts, "Em!"

Emily looks amused and gives Claire a hug. "I told you I was coming today. You just didn't tell me _you_ were coming today."

"Emily!" Claire squeals while Peter laughs in the background. She turns around and shoots him a dirty look but he just lifts his palms in a shrug.

"Oh, please, like this isn't suspect."

"It's not," Emily says. "It's beyond suspect. It's obvious. There are clothes on the floor by the front door."

"Ok, well, I know you want to talk about me so I am going to go take a shower. Then I'll make some dinner and we can go from there." Peter gives Claire a quick kiss on the side of her temple before heading into the bathroom.

Emily turns to Claire and says, "Lucy, you've got some 'splaining to do."

"Oh god, Emily, I have so much to tell you," Claire says excitedly. "So much has happened since I e-mailed you last. First, Peter and I got into a huge massive fight – we yelled and screamed and everything, it was terrible – and then I went on a date with Josh to sort of spite him but also because I did like Josh but then Josh was murdered - "

"What?!" interrupts Emily.

"Yeah," Claire says, her face falling. "It was awful. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Ok, honey. That must have been horrible." Claire nods. "Let's move on, so I can ask you all sorts of embarrassing questions that you don't want to want to answer but I'll weasel the answers out of you anyway. It'll make you feel better."

Claire rolls her eyes. "So anyway, I was really upset about it and Peter was really good about it all, respecting my privacy but also letting me know he was there if I needed him, and then we made up because the cause for our fight turned out to be a whole huge misunderstanding and then there were a few days of getting back to being ourselves after the fight but now we're definitely together."

"And how is it?"

"How's what?"

"Claire!"

"Good," Claire smiles. "_Really_ good."

"Aaaah," Emily says, flinging herself onto the couch. "I am so jealous. That man is so fine. What's his body like?"

"Perfect," Claire sighs.

When it became apparent Claire wasn't going to say anything else, Emily says, "Oh, come on, Claire. You can't leave me hanging here. I tell you everything about my hook-ups, the least you can do is tell me if you had an orgasm."

Claire's eyes glaze as she remembers. "Oh yeah. At least three."

"Three today? Or three in total?"

"Today is the total."

"Oh shit, I interrupted your first day of loooooooove? Sorry," Emily says, not sounding sorry at all. "But back up, three today?"

Claire nods. "That man can do things with his tongue that has to be illegal in several states," she confides and her cheeks burn in embarrassment when Emily screeches and hits her hands on the couch in excitement.

The man in question arrives back in the living room from the shower with his hair still wet. He's wearing his best fitting jeans, the ones that are snug in all the right places, and he has a simple black Henley on. It is a laid back look that is rare on Peter and a testament to just how content he is.

"Why hello," Emily purrs and Peter pauses. He looks at Emily, who is giving him a rather knowing look and Claire, who looks apologetic.

"I don't even want to know," he decides and begins opening cupboards. "What are you girls in the mood for? Food wise!" he adds before Emily can make a smart remark.

"You know too well, Mr. Petrelli," Emily says. She wanders into the kitchen and opens the fridge. "What've you got?"

Claire gets up from the couch and wraps the sheet tighter around her body. "I'm gonna go take a shower and put some clothes on," she says. She stifles a laugh as Peter whirls around and gives her a look that clearly says _don't leave me_.

She hears Emily say, "So Peter…" before the bathroom door closes. Claire takes the fastest shower known to man and dresses in a pair of jeans and one of Peter's sweatshirts. She enters the kitchen to Emily chopping green peppers and Peter adding spice to a few pieces of chicken while arguing about Hilary Clinton's chances at the presidency.

"I leave you alone for thirty minutes and you're arguing politics?"

Emily waves the knife around wildly. "Your _boyfriend_ here is a fan of Hilary's. Please tell him he's crazy."

"I've met Hilary," Peter shoots back. "She's a capable woman who will get things done."

"Puh-lease! She's milking her husband's power and using her famous last name to get her into the White House."

"O-kay," Claire interrupts. "Let's put the knife down when we're arguing."

Emily blows out a breath. "Ok, I'm calmer now. Let's move on to something else before I accidentally cut someone and we have to go to the ER." Claire and Peter share a smile over Emily's head, imagining Emily's reaction to their amazing healing skin. "Now that it's obvious Ben and Jerry and Lifetime movies featuring Tori Spelling are not needed, can we go out tonight? I'm in desperate need of a little Club Barumba."

Claire worries her lip. "I'm not sure Em…" She looks at Peter. "What do you think?"

Peter folds his arms across his chest. "It's not a good idea, Claire."

Emily looks between the two of them. She narrows her eyes at Claire. "What is this? Are you seriously asking his permission to go out? Claire! I can't believe you are being that girl!"

"It's not like that," Peter says, defending Claire.

"I sort of have a stalker," hedges Claire. "He sent me flowers and a picture of myself one time and a ball gown another. And the notes are creepy."

"Holy crap, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry," Claire shrugs. "I've got it pretty covered. The police are aware of it and I don't go out by myself." She looks at Peter. "But I haven't gotten any notes in like over a week and we can even talk to Micah and see if he can come up with something that'll act as a tracker or something and I promise not to go anywhere by myself. And you can even come! And bring Claude!"

"Claude's not going to come to a club, Claire. Even for you."

Claire pouts, turning big puppy eyes on him and he can feel his resolve slipping. "Ok, then Niki and DL. Please Peter? Please?"

Peter feels himself nod his blessing and, as the two girls jump up and down and hug him, yelling thanks, he tries his hardest to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

9:52 pm

"Em, can I borrow your liquid eyeliner?" Claire asks the brunette as she carefully applies eye shadow to her lid.

"Sure," Emily says, passing it to her.

"So, know who's still in town?" Claire asks casually, not waiting for an answer. "Jason."

"Oh really?"

Claire slides her a look. "Look at you trying to play it cool. I have his number from the bar that one time. I can call him and tell him I'm looking for someone to hang out with since everyone's gone home for the summer and then you can act all surprised when you see him and I'll just slink away."

"Right, like he won't see through the fact that you're my roommate and obviously called him for me."

"He won't when he sees how hot you look!" Emily rolls her eyes but nods her agreement anyway. "Yay!" Claire says. "I'm gonna go text him right now."

Claire skips out of the bathroom and into the bedroom to find her cell phone. Peter is standing in front of his dresser in jeans and nothing else, contemplating a shirt.

"The blue Polo," Claire says, reaching around him and pulling the shirt out of the drawer. "It makes your arms look amazing."

Peter turns around. "Whoa," he says. "Are you trying to kill me?" Claire blushes and does a slow spin for him. "Is this the only thing holding the shirt up?" Peter asks, fingering the thin tie in the back. Claire nods and Peter groans. Pushing her back towards the bed, he undoes the tie with a flourish and pulls the shirt over her head triumphantly.

"Peter, Emily's in the other room! I told her I'd be right back!"

"We'll be quiet," Peter whispers and Claire's resolve dissipates. She pushes him down on the bed and slides up his body slowly, letting her nipples trace her torturous path against his chest.

"Mmmm," she hums against his lips as he reaches a hand down to unbutton her jeans.

There's a knock at the door. "Claire? Peter? I'm sorry to interrupt but there's a black guy, his wife, and a Japanese guy at the door and they said they know you. Should I let them in?"

Claire tears her lips from Peter and sighs heavily. "Yeah, Em. We know them. We'll be out in a minute." She climbs off Peter and puts her shirt back on. "I guess we'll continue this later?"

Peter growls. "I wish I knew how to stop time for more than one person."

Claire giggles. "Just don't tell Hiro why you want to know. I'm not sure he'll see using his power to have sex as a noble enough reason to teach you. I'm gonna go out there since I don't want to leave Emily for too long. You'll put on a shirt and come out in a minute?"

Peter looks down at himself and then at Claire. "I'm probably gonna need more than a minute," he says, already thinking of baseball statistics and how to change the oil in a car to distract himself.

Claire sticks out her lower lip in sympathy. "I'm sorry baby," she says, giving him a fast kiss on the lips before heading out to the living room.

"Me too," Peter sighs. "Me too."

12:30 am

"I just want to remind you that I think this is a bad idea," Peter yells as they enter the crowded club.

"Peter, I go to clubs all the time," Claire replies. "Em and I have a system. Cells are in the pocket at all times, on vibrate so we can feel calls or texts. We meet at the bar on the hour, every hour to see how the night is going. And the most important – no leaving with anyone without clearing it with the other person."

Peter tenses slightly. "Has Emily ever cleared you to leave with anyone?"

"Just you," Claire smiles and Peter lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "And to ease your fears further, I have that tracker Micah made in my shoe, Niki and DL and Ando are bodyguards, and I have no plans to leave your side all night." She gives him a lingering kiss.

"All good answers," Peter says.

"C'mon Bennet," Emily says, interrupting and grabbing her wrist. "First drink is on me." She drags Claire to the bar and orders two Long Island Iced Teas. "Now, quick, tell me about that cute Japanese guy."

"Who, Ando?"

"Yeah," Emily says dreamily as she takes her first sip of the drink. "He's totally sexy."

Claire tries to bite back a laugh but a giggle escapes. "What happened to Jason?"

"Jason who?" Emily replies with a wicked grin.

"Well, you're in luck because I happen to know Ando's single."

"Jackpot," Emily murmurs. "I'm moving in for the kill."

"Just be careful Em," Claire warns as her roommate walks away. "I want him back in one piece."

"Ando doesn't stand a chance," Peter says as he comes up from behind her.

"No," Claire agrees. "He's toast." She puts her drink down on the bar, not thirsty anymore and wraps her hands around his neck instead.

"How long till we can leave?" Peter wants to know.

"At least an hour. Niki and DL would kill us if we dragged them all the way out here to leave. Let's dance."

Claire leads Peter out onto the dark dance floor, a rap song with a pounding beat filling their ears. Peter lets his hands wander down Claire's torso, over the swell of her butt, cupping her cheeks and bringing her closer. Claire turns in his arms, so his hands rest on the waistband of her pants, and she can feel him hard already against her back. She wriggles her hips and grinds into his pelvis and feels his breath, harsh and ragged, against her neck.

"I'm not going to last an hour if you keep that up," Peter whispers in her ear before biting gently on her earlobe. Claire shivers and closes her eyes. Peter's hands creep slowly up until they are resting just below her breasts and images of earlier in the afternoon explode in Claire's brain. She feels a tightening in her body, low and guttural.

They dirty dance for a few more minutes before Claire twists and pants breathlessly, "I'm going to go to the bathroom and then find Emily. We're out of here." Peter smiles predatorily and follows Claire to the women's bathroom so he can wait outside.

Inside, Claire splashes cold water on her face and tries to calm her racing pulse. "Just breathe," she whispers to her reflection.

"Yes, Claire, just breathe," a voice behind her says and Claire whirls around in surprise. There's a man standing there, with shaggy brown hair and a beard that's several days due for a shave. She whips her head around and realizes the room is empty, save for them.

"How'd you know my name? Who are you?" she asks, panicked as she stumbles away.

"Get away from me!" she screams, pushing off the wall and running towards the door. It's locked and Claire tugs on it futilely, knowing somehow that this is the man who has been taking pictures and sending her poetry and ball gowns. The man touches her bare shoulder and she watches as her skin blisters under his palm before healing itself.

"Claire, Claire, Claire," the man says. "Don't make this hard. You don't want me to get too fired up."


	10. Chapter 9: You're Missing

note: first and foremost, thank y'all for all the wonderful reviews I've gotten for the past 8 chapters – it's what keeps me writing! This particular chapter, however, was NOT EASY – it fought hard, it was tough, and as a result, some compromises had to be made. Naturally, it's not the chapter I had envisioned but I hope it provides some answers that y'all have been waiting so patiently for. ((I must confess it was ready earlier but then I turned on the news and watched coverage of the horrible, horrible situation at Virginia Tech for a while. My thoughts and prayers go out to everyone involved!)) Please keep in mind this story is _AU after 1.14_ so this is simply one account of how Ted could have attempted to get answers.

CHAPTER NINE: You're Missing

"_Morning is morning, the evening falls I have too much room in my bed, too many phone calls. How's everything, everything? Everything, everything, you're missing, you're missing…"_

_-- You're Missing, Bruce Springsteen_

saturday may 24: 4:39 am

"What do you mean, she's not on the monitor?" Peter tries to hide how terrified he is but his anxious words betray him.

"I mean, the tracker is not registering. The last location it shows is the woman's bathroom of the club you were at. You're sure her shoes weren't there?" Micah says impatiently, punching a bunch of keys on the computer's keyboard and frowning at the results. Niki looks over his shoulder at the jumbled data and shakes her head, wishing she understood what they meant.

"Yes," Emily says. "I looked like six times. The only thing I found was her wristlet, which had her ID and her phone and her keys. She just … disappeared." Her eyes fill with tears. "Oh god, what if her stalker took her? I was the one who convinced her to go out. I'll never forgive myself."

"Hey, hey," Ando tries to be reassuring and pats Emily's tense shoulders but he can't help but think of all the awful places Claire could be. "Claire's a strong girl. She'll be ok."

Hiro and Isaac appear in the living room suddenly, having teleported to the Sanders' apartment as soon as Ando called them with the news. Emily takes a step back in fright. "Fuck," Peter says under his breath to himself. "Fuck!" Everyone looks at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic outburst. "This is just not what we need right now." He takes a breath. "Emily, I have to tell you something about all of us. We're all…special. Genetically gifted. It's how our strange group came together - we can do things that most human beings can't. Micah's a technology genius. Hiro can stop time and travel through space. Isaac can paint the future. Niki has superstrength, DL can phase through solid objects, Matt can hear people's thoughts, my brother can fly, I can absorb anyone's powers and use them at a later date, and Claire is invincible."

Emily blinks, looking around the room for someone to signal it's a joke or maybe even to tell her she's on Candid Camera. "Wh-what?"

"I know it's a lot to take in."

"So you all have like – superpowers? Like the X-Men? You're like – superheroes?"

"Sort of," Matt hedges. "We haven't done much saving though. Mostly we're just normal people with abnormal abilities."

"Ok," Emily says. "It's sort of overwhelming but I don't really have the energy to freak out right now. I'm too worried about Claire." She pulls out a kitchen chair and puts her head in her hands. Peter nods his head at Ando and the Japanese man sits in the chair next to her. "What's your power?" she asks him.

"No power," he admits. "Just a sidekick."

"Me too," she says and squeezes his hand.

Even though Peter is the unofficial leader, Matt takes charge as his police roots kick in. "Technically, we cannot get the police involved until Claire has been missing for over twenty four hours, so we're going to have to do some preliminary leg work on our own. I want Hiro and DL to go back to the crime scene and see if you can find anything that Peter and Emily might have missed. The club closed at 4 so everyone's gone for the night. Teleport in, phase in, whatever, just get in there. Micah, you keep on the technological end, try to find a signal from her tracker, anything. Also, hack into the club's surveillance feed and find the tape of the hallway outside the bathroom and run people's pictures through the system till you get matches. Niki, you and I are going to round up some of the people that in the bathroom and interview them, good cop/bad cop style. Isaac, go back in your canvases and see if you have any paintings that might indicate where Claire is. See if you can paint anything to try to find Claire. Ando, you keep an eye on Emily and Peter – keep them occupied, make sure they eat. We'll meet back at Peter's in three hours to discuss findings."

5:13 am

Back in his studio, Isaac pulls out the four canvases of Claire. He tosses aside the one of Claire and the flowers since it has already occurred and places the other three side by side on easels. Everyone stares blankly at them, taking in all the details. "This picture doesn't tell us anything," Isaac declares, tapping the picture on the first easel. "It's just Claire in a ballgown, no extra details."

Emily chews her lip and taps the second canvas. "Isaac, do you have a magnifying glass? I think I see something." Isaac rummages through a drawer in his kitchen and hands Emily an old-fashioned magnifying glass.

"I thought you said Claire was invincible?" Emily asks. "That means she can't stay cut, right? Like she'll heal from anything?"

Peter nods, unsure of where Emily's questioning is going.

Emily hunches her shoulders. "So why is her knee bleeding in this picture? It doesn't make sense." She leans forward and uses the magnifying glass to inspect the painting. "Hey, Isaac? Do you see that? It looks like…"

"A burn," Isaac finishes. "But not like a rug burn. Maybe like a radiation burn? Here," he takes the magnifying glass from Emily. "See the dress? It's charred at the edges. And her knee almost looks blistered."

"Ok," Peter sighs. "Let's go report this to Micah and the rest of the group and see if we can rack our brains to figure out why Claire has a radiation burn on her knee that won't heal. I think we're getting somewhere," he says cautiously and Claire's best friends give each other a hopeful look.

5:29 am

Claire reaches out her hand for Peter in the warm comfy bed but finds only space where his body is supposed to be. She opens her eyes to find a green room when there should be white, four posters and a canopy where there should be none. The room is dark and there is a forbidding feeling in the air. Claire sits up and gasps when she sees a man sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room.

"Who are you?" she demands, drawing the sheets up to her chest. "Where am I?"

"Relax Claire," he says, his fingers in a steeple against his chest. He's an average looking guy, with brown shaggy hair and a brown beard. Not anyone Claire would have given a second glance to on the streets. She wonders, not for the first time, what exactly Peter and everyone were looking for when they went out with her and decides it was probably inevitable that she ended up here. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Who are you?" she repeats.

"I'm your secret admirer," he says with a smirk and he picks up a box from the floor. Crossing the room, he hands it to her. "Open it." Claire casts a suspicious glance at the man and opens the box with trepidation. Inside, she finds the same pale lavender dress she was sent weeks ago. "I wouldn't want you to have forgotten that. I got it especially for you to wear for me, remember?"

"What do you _want_ from me?" Claire's voice shakes and she hates that she is showing this man weakness.

"Claire, Claire, Claire," the man says in his eerily raspy voice. It sounds like it hasn't been used frequently. "I just want you to keep me company."

"Keep you company?" Claire is wary. There's a catch, she knows it.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "It's been a long time since someone's been able to do that. I'm pretty lucky to have found you." Claire feels her body grow cold at the man's words. "Now, you've been asleep for a while. You must be hungry. Put the dress on and come to breakfast."

"It's 5:30 in the morning," Claire challenges, looking at a clock above the man's head. "I'm not hungry."

The man stands. "This isn't an option," he says and while his voice has not changed, his eyes glow a little bit brighter, his tone a little bit more ferric. "Don't worry, Claire," he continues after a moment and it is like his previous words have not been spoken. "I make really great pancakes." He walks to the door and turns back. "Change quickly."

Claire takes a deep breath after the door clicks shut and quickly pulls the dress on. As she suspected, it fits her like a glove, playing up all her strengths and downplaying her weaknesses. _They're looking for you_, she tells herself as she opens the door. _They know you're missing_. The knowledge does not comfort her as the man motions for him to follow him.

"Do you have a name?" Claire asks sullenly as they walk down a corridor. She picks at the hem of the lavender dress, nervous.

"Ted," the man replies simply.

Claire frowns and they enter a large room with a long dining table in it, lit only by two candles.

The man waves a hand impatiently. "Please sit."

There is a long silence which is more unnerving than the man's eerie voice and Claire shifts restlessly in her chair. "Did you kill Josh?"

Ted stops with one hand on his drink. "Interesting first question, Claire. Yes, I did."

Claire blinks furiously, trying to get rid of the tears that come with the painful confirmation that Josh is dead because of her. "But why?"

"Well, I didn't MEAN to. I just walked up to, asked him a few questions, and he got all defensive, which made me mad. And one thing led to another…" Ted shrugs and takes a sip of his water.

"What were you asking him?"

He frowns. "General questions about his feelings for you. He wasn't giving me the answers I wanted and I didn't really want a guy hanging around you with ambiguous motives."

"So why'd you leave Peter alone?" The question is out of her mouth before she realizes it and Claire winces. Her mama was always telling her to think before she spoke and here she was, bringing Peter into this mess. The man had already killed one potential beau; there was no need to give him any reason to go after Peter.

Ted's answer surprises her. "Because Peter is part of my plan. I'm almost certain he's looking for you right now. And he's the only person who could possibly help me now – especially since I found out there's no cure. So I need him to teach me how he keeps control of all those powers he's absorbed. And with you here, I'm sure he'll do whatever I tell him. You just have to find the right motivator and everything else falls into place," Ted grins.

"So that's it? This whole thing – sending me flowers and pictures and poetry and a dress was to get PETER to help you control whatever power you have? It wasn't even about me?"

Ted rolls his eyes. "God, Claire, I didn't realize you were such a drama queen."

"I'm a drama queen because you've been stalking me for weeks and now I'm finding out its all some stupid plot to get Peter here? Why didn't you just take him? You don't even need me – I'm just a pawn in your stupid game."

Ted slams his hands down on the table and growls. Claire shrinks back, immediately regretting her outburst. "Don't make me upset Claire. When I get upset, I get very bright … and very hot." He takes a deep breath, attempting to calm down. "Now, several things. One, I did not stalk you. I purposefully stayed away from Peter's apartment to give you some privacy. I just … watched you a lot. You can learn a lot from watching a person hail a cab and enter a building."

An odd sensation bubbles in Claire, unwanted visions swimming before her of an unknown man lurking in a closet as Claire and Peter make love, peering through the keyhole, listening to their breathing. She lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, thankful that at least that vision wasn't the truth.

"Secondly, you are not a pawn. God, you don't listen!" Ted's ears glow red and Claire almost expects to see steam come out of them. He points to them and lets out a strangled laugh. "See why I need Peter? _This_ is why I avoided human contact for so long."

Claire looks at him curiously. "What can do you do? What do you need Peter to help you control?"

"I radiate." Ted allows his hands to glow, bright orbs of fire emitting from his palms. "All thanks to your father."

"My father?"

"And his band of freaks at Primatech. They made me this way," he says, pulling his shirt aside and brandishing the mark on his neck.

Claire shakes her head. "No, they didn't. I'm pretty sure Primatech only track us. Our powers – it's a genetics thing. Mohinder's done tons of research on it, he says there is no way anyone could make us. We're naturally selected, not man made."

"No, Claire," Ted argues. "Obviously, your father got to you too. It's ok, I should have guessed. That day I went to his office, he told me he had a daughter that was like me, I should have known that he would have fed you the same bullshit he was trying to get me to believe."

"You went to my dad's office?"

"Oh yeah, a long time ago. You were still in high school. I burnt the lock to his safe off and went through all his papers, looking for a cure, a way to make this all go way. He caught me and kept insisting that there was no cure and the way I could trust him was because he had a daughter that could heal and didn't I think he would have cured her if there was one available? Man, I got so angry at that. I almost burnt that whole stupid place down. Maybe I should have, that would have prevented me from getting caught again. I trusted your father, trusted him to do the right thing and help me. And instead, I got locked up and I don't even _know_ how long I spent down there in one of those metal cells. By the time I was able to get out, I was so weak, I nearly died."

Ted pauses, almost daring Claire to disagree with his narrative. She stays silent and he continues. "So, I went to Nevada for a long time to recuperate because I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't hurt anyone else, not so soon after accidentally killing my wife. And after a year or two of solitude, I said to myself - Ted, this is no way to live, out here all alone in the desert. So I came to New York because I always wanted to and because I had a dream about it, clear as day, and I figured – why not? Finding you was pure accident and as soon as I saw you, I realized you've always been the solution to my problems. I had done my homework while I was in the desert and I found out all about Peter Petrelli's special abilities and it was _fate_ that you were so chummy with him. It's killing two birds with one stone: I don't have to be alone after all because you can heal and you're the motivation Peter needs to help me. I know you're probably scared now but I'm not such a bad guy. You'll get used to me after a while, you'll see."

Claire's eyes widen at Ted's words. _He is seriously deranged_, she thinks. "So, you're hoping…I fall in love with you?"

Ted shrugs. "Well, I'm not holding my breath or anything but yeah, eventually."

Claire's blood runs cold. "And what about Peter? What are you doing to do with him after he's taught you how to control your power?"

"Well, after he's taught me everything he knows, I'll have no more use for him and I'll have to get rid of him."

"No," Claire gasps. "Please, no."

"Claire, I know you love him but I'm not doing all of this to be a bastard. It's time you learn this world is a cruel, cruel place." Ted rubs his face with his hand. "Shit," he mutters, more to himself than anything. "This is not really how I had this breakfast all planned. I thought we could talk, get to know each other. I wasn't really expecting to go into Peter or anything yet."

"What? You thought I'd just be **OK** with you kidnapping me and that I'd just forget about my former life? That'd I'd drop everything because you're _lonely_?" Claire pushes her chair back from the table, shaking. "You have spent far too much time alone in the desert, Ted. You're seriously missing something."

"No," Ted says softly. "I'm desperate."

7:01 am

"You got anything?" Niki asks Micah hopefully as she and Matt enter the apartment. "Because the interviews were a bust. We got no where."

"No," Micah shakes his head, blinking his eyes blearily. "Isaac, Peter, and Emily noticed that in one of the paintings Claire has something that looks like a radiation burn. But there's nothing on Mohinder's list and I'm not getting anything in the tri-state area about radiation leaks."

"Radiation burn?" Matt echoes. Micah nods. "Holy shit," Matt says. "It's Ted."

"What?" Peter asks, his ears perking up.

Matt shakes his head and talks more to himself that anyone else. "I can't believe I didn't see it before. It's so obvious – the poem, the way Josh died…how did I not realize this?"

"Realize what?" Peter repeats.

"I know who's been stalking Claire. It's this guy, Ted. Years ago, when I was still with the LAPD, Audrey and I tracked this guy who emitted levels of radiation. He actually gave his wife cancer. He was taken into protective custody but he escaped. As far as I know, he was never found. I'll bet anything that's who has Claire."

"Great!" Peter jumps off his place on the couch. "Now how do we find out where he's holding her?"

Micah taps a few computer keys and clicks on a few websites. After a few minutes, he says, "I have an address. The apartment's in his sister's name but the lease just started two months ago and the sister has three kids in elementary school halfway across the US. No way would she just pick up and move to the city in the middle of the school year. I'll bet anything its Ted."

Niki wraps her arms around her son and presses a kiss to his head. "You are so smart," she tells him proudly.

"Let's go save the cheerleader," Hiro says excitedly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Matt stops him. "We can't all go charging in. That's like announcing the cavalry is here. We don't know anything about the area of the house, not to mention that Ted is a really volatile guy."

"He's right," Peter says. "Some of us need to stay back. Ando, Emily, Mohinder – no offense."

Emily shakes her head. "None taken."

"I'll stay too," Isaac says begrudgingly. "I'm no use in the field."

Mohinder speaks up. "What about Claude?"

"We'll pick him up on the way. I know where he stays in New York. But for now, that leaves DL, Hiro, Niki, Matt, and me. Micah, we need you to equip us with a layout of the house, something that can register radiation limits, and walkie talkies so we can communicate easy. Hiro, you and I are going to go do some recon in the neighborhood and then we'll come back here and make a plan. Matt, you need to think of everything you know about this guy." Peter turns to Emily. "Em, you said you found Claire's phone?"

"Yeah," Emily says, picking up the pink Sidekick and handing it to Peter.

Peter's face is determined as he clicks through the contacts on her phone until the name he wants is highlighted. He presses send and holds the phone up to his ear. "Hello? Mr. Bennet?"


	11. Chapter 10: Invincible

note: Well, this is it. The last chapter of Butterfly in Reverse. I'm sad to see it end because I had a ton of fun writing it but as I'm nearing finals, I don't have the same time I did earlier in the semester to dedicate to it, so it's good timing. This won't be the last you see of me – I'm always thinking of plot bunnies for my favorite tv show. Thank you so much for all of your kind words of encouragement as I wrote this story – it truly is what kept me writing.

CHAPTER TEN: Invincible

_When they finally come to destroy the earth, they'll have to go through you first, and I bet they wont be expecting that. When they finally come to destroy the earth, they'll have to deal with you first, and my money says they won't know about the 1000-Fahrenheit hot metal lights behind your eyes…_

_-- Invincible, OK GO_

saturday may 24: 10:19 am

"This is not a good situation," Niki admits quietly, looking around at the tall buildings. The apartment building is located on a calm, narrow street – not ideal for busting a teenaged girl out of a radioactive man's clutches. Almost subconsciously, she reaches for DL's hand. He squeezes lightly, to reassure her, and she offers him a weak smile in return.

"Very bad," Hiro agrees solemnly.

"We'll have to empty the apartment building of the residents," Mr. Bennet says simply, giving each of them a serious look. "This man is extremely dangerous and there is no need for any unnecessary casualties."

"Except you," mutters Jessica and Matt hides a smile beneath his hand. Mr. Bennet, who must have heard the blonde, ignores her and turns to the Haitian.

"How long do you think you can neutralize him for?"

The Haitan shrugs. "Not long," he says in his accented voice. "And it is a small space. It may also not allow the others to use their powers."

Peter closes his eyes in desperation. It is torture to be so close to Claire and yet so far from actually holding her at the same time. "Well, we know from scanning the neighborhood that there aren't actually that many apartment buildings. It's a zoned industrial area, although a few apartment buildings like this are cropping up. Luckily, it's a Saturday so we really only have to worry about the other occupants in the building. We can tell them there's a gas leak or high carbon monoxide levels or something. Anything to get them down the street, away from harm."

"If Ted goes nuclear, it won't really matter where they are," Matt points out and the morbid thought is met with silence.

"Well, we won't let it get to that," Mr. Bennet resolves.

Jessica glares at Claire's father at his mention of "we" and turns to Peter. "Why'd you invite him again?" she hisses.

"Because he was in town and he's studied Ted before, knows his power better than any of us. Plus, whatever else he is, he still is Claire's father. He deserves to be here," Peter whispers back. He steals a look at Claude, Claire's other father, and knows how hard it is for him to be here, especially with Mr. Bennet. It's a testament to how much he cares about Claire that he bothered at all.

"I'm with Jessica," Matt says darkly, glaring at the supposed paper salesman. "That man is bad news."

Peter shrugs. Mr. Bennet's a mystery but Peter's pretty sure that in this instant, he's on their side. "Let's spread out and get the people out the apartments as quickly as we can. Then we'll regroup and get Claire."

They go in pairs – Niki and DL, Matt and Hiro, Claude and Peter, the Haitan and Mr. Bennet – and surprisingly, the tenants are cooperative. It takes a good hour to clear the building out. It helps that Mr. Bennet is a convincing liar: he weaves a tale as a concerned resident so convincing, the landlord is eager to help. They place the landlord in charge of holding everyone at bay and, with the promise of fire trucks on the way, they head back in.

The eight reassemble down the hall for Ted's apartment. Matt uses his telepathy to map where Claire and Ted are in the building and he assures them that neither appear to be near the door, nor are they in the same room.

Mr. Bennet's eyes are hard behind his glasses and his voice holds an edge that betrays his worried state over his daughter. "Spread out and find Claire. When you find her, use the walkie talkie Micah gave everyone to alert the others and get my little girl out of here immediately. My associate and I will deal with Ted."

Claude opens his mouth to retort that Claire is _his_ daughter but one look from Peter silences him. Peter feels the same tightness in his chest that Mr. Bennet's voice has and Claude's eyes hold. Together, they enter the apartment and see immediately that it is deceivingly large. They split up apprehensively, each instinctively going to cover a separate area. The Haitian stays near the doorway, eyes closed in concentration, as he projects over the spacious area.

Peter anxiously walks down a corridor. Claude follows him and they both try in vain to make themselves invisible. Looking at each other flicking, they say nothing but the air seems to swirl with urgency at this new found knowledge.

Worried, Claude presses down the button of the walkie talkie Micah rigged and says, "Test, test. Can anyone hear this?" He waits a second before repeating it. There is no response to either test, not even static. Peter winces, wondering why they hadn't thought of this before hand. Ted's radiation emission is low but clearly enough to affect the walkie talkies.

Together, they open a few doors. Peter's stomach twists in knots for the few seconds it takes to reveal what is in the room. They find a closet and a bathroom but no Claire. Peter continues to lead down the hall and opens a third door. On the small room's walls are hundreds of pictures of Claire. Claire walking down the streets of New York, in front of her dorm building, with Micah in the park, with Niki shopping, with Mohinder in a taxi. Claire laughing, Claire looking upset, Claire talking on the phone, Claire doing every day normal things, never suspecting someone is perversely photographing her every move.

Peter sees black spots in front of his eyes and has to bend at the waist to catch his breath. "Easy mate," Claude says and Peter can tell he is only barely keeping his anger in check.

Peter closes the room swiftly, in a daze, and isn't sure he can handle finding another room like that. They arrive at the last closed door of the hallway and brace themselves. Peter is so relieved to see Claire sitting on a bed, staring at the ceiling that he almost can't walk into the room.

"Peter!" she cries jubilantly, launching herself off the bed and into his arms. She peppers his face with kisses, squeezing him so tight he has trouble breathing for the second time in minutes. She looks past him and sees Claude. Tears well up in her eyes and she smiles shyly at him.

"Claire," Peter says, pulling back to look at her. She is dressed in the ball gown that arrived outside Isaac's studio and even in his frantic state, Peter can appreciate how gorgeous she looks in it. "Are you ok? Did he do anything to you? Are you hurt?"

"No," Claire shakes her head, her curls slowly falling out of the ponytail. "We ate breakfast. He talked crazy but he didn't do anything to me. He's seriously missing something."

Claude opens the door to the corridor and looks both ways before motioning them out. "I know," Peter says, thinking of the wall with her pictures. He takes her hand and they walk carefully down the hallway, following Claude's lead. "We need to get you out of here now. I don't want you in this apartment for one more minute."

"Me neither. I just want to go home."

"Hey, speaking of home, your adopted dad's here, in the house. I remembered he was in town on a business trip and called him when we realized where you were."

Claire squeezes his hand as they enter the dining room where she had eaten just a few hours ago. "You listen when I talk," she teases because even though she is terrified, she feels safer now that Peter is here with her. She senses Claude rolling his eyes and grins because it's nice that everyone's a little predictable, even if they are in the middle of a nightmare.

"How precious," comes a raspy voice from behind them and they whirl around to see Ted standing in the doorway.

Peter pushes Claire behind her and yells at her to run. "No!" she screams. "I'm not leaving either of you."

"Claire, GO!" Peter roars and she blinks and imagines herself in her cheerleader outfit, blood all over herself and Peter in his trench coat. She listens to him because it's the easiest thing to do and runs in the opposite direction, yelling at the top of her lungs for help. Claire trips on the long hem of the dress and falls, her knee scraping itself on the carpet in a nasty rug burn. She waits for her skin to heal itself and feels the unfamiliar sting of pain. _We are in big trouble here_, she thinks and looks up to see Niki and DL running towards her.

"Claire!" DL scoops her up and gives her a big hug. "We need to get out of here, _now_."

"No," she squirms out of his arms, ignoring the pain that shoots up her leg as her cut knee connects with DL's torso. "Peter and Claude are back there with Ted and our powers don't work here. We can't leave them!"

Grimly, the trio hurries back to the living room. Matt and Hiro have joined the fight but they, like Peter and Claude, have been rendered useless. All four of them are sitting bound to dining hall chairs, shouting incoherently against a gag in their mouths. Jessica straightens her shoulders and launches herself at Ted. She gets a few good hits in and Ted's nose breaks with a loud crack. He's bleeding and his eyes glow red in anger.

"That wasn't very nice," he tells her and brings his hands together. It takes a few seconds but he manages to break the Haitan's barrier briefly and he sends a small blast of heat in her direction. Jessica flies backwards, hits the wall, and slides all the way down. Her legs catch DL, as she were a bowling ball and he was the pin, and his body goes limp underneath hers.

Ted turns to Claire, blood covering his shirt, face twisted into a terrible smile. "This is the most company I've had in a long time," he tells her. "I wasn't aware you were so popular. It's a shame I have no use for so many of them. I guess I'll have to get rid of them."

"NO," Claire cries, running over to Hiro's binds and frantically trying to untie them. Tears of frustration cloud her vision and she cannot undo them quick enough.

"Stop right there Ted," Mr. Bennet orders as he and the Haitian enter the room.

Ted whips around from where he is watching Claire try to rescue Hiro unsuccessfully. "Well, well, well. If it isn't my good friend, Mr. Bennet," he mocks.

"Let my Claire go," Mr. Bennet says, taking a step towards Ted. Ted sneers and soon it is Mr. Bennet who is slamming against the wall, bleeding. The Haitian stumbles backwards in fatigue, Ted's mounting anger and strong radiation knocking holes into his attempts to keep everyone's powers at bay.

Claire is the only Hero left standing and as she looks around the dining room, surveying the scene, she doesn't know where to start. Niki and DL are out cold, her father is moaning nearby, and the Haitan can barely stand. Ted moves towards the four that are bound and gagged. Matt's eyes are frantic and he is struggling against his binds. Hiro's eyes are closed in concentration but Claire can tell Ted's radiation is making him sweat and lose his focus. Claude, ever the unflappable British man, remains impassive and Peter _winks _at her.

"You see, Claire? I'm just not good with people anymore." The smile he gives her has too much teeth and not enough joy and Claire darts her eyes around for a way out. She ducks down behind Matt and Hiro, out of Ted's line of sight, frantically racking her brain. She creeps along the floor until she is behind Peter's chair. His hands are free of the ropes binding them and he brushes Claire's cheek with a few fingers in encouragement.

Ted prattles on with his back to Claire, oblivious to his captives. "Peter will be the last to die, since I have use for him. But who should I get rid of first? All these unnecessary people!" Ted turns his attention to Mr. Bennet, who is groaning and stirring against the wall. "Why of course. How did I not think of this immediately? You betrayed my trust, Bennet. You lied to me and captured me and made me your lab rat. What do you think, Claire?" he asks, looking for her for the first time. "It's fitting I kill your adopted father first, right?"

Peter stands from the chair he is in and grabs Ted in a chokehold. "Claire, in your father's pocket, there's a syringe. Get it and give it to me!" She knows her father's been projecting thoughts at him; it's the only way he could possibly know about the syringe. She makes a mental note to hug them both tightly later because even if she will never understand her father, he's important to her and it makes her happy her boyfriend can work in tandem with him.

Claire works her way over to her father, all the agility and finesse she learned from cheerleading coming in handy as she dodges chairs, tables, and limbs. In the background, she could hear Ted struggling against Peter's hold and felt the air grow warmer. She casts a worried look at the others in the room, their skin becoming pink and blistered, and runs back to Peter.

Ted knows what is coming and his eyes are nothing but sad, unshed tears glistening against his lashes. Claire understands he's crazy, delusional, and more than a little willing to commit murder but she also knows what it's like to be a social pariah, to have a power you don't understand, to not fit in. "I'm sorry Ted," she says simply because she _is_, despite everything he did and said and intended, and plunges the contents of the syringe into his heart.

1:09 pm

Everyone's waiting for them at Peter's because Claire's tired and emotionally drained and still dressed in a torn ball gown. She wants nothing more than to change into a pair of Peter's sweatpants and curl up with him in his bed and sleep forever. She can't, of course, so she settles for changing into sweatpants and heads back out into the living room where people are milling around.

The group's a little shell shocked from the events of the past 24 hours. After Ted's destruction, Peter had put his nursing skills to work. Of course, he'd cheated a little bit and used a healing power he had picked up over the course of the years and mended everyone's radiation poisoning and burns with the extension of his hands.

"Nice trick," Claire had told him and Peter had ignored her teasing tone and kissed her soundly on the mouth, happy to have her back.

They called the fire department, as promised, and they had gone to work at evaluating the building for it's "gas leak". The nine acted shocked when the firemen reported an unbalance of radiation. The tenants were cleared to come back in a day or two and the landlord had thanked Mr. Bennet profusely for noticing anything was wrong.

Relieved, they had traveled back to Peter's, exhausted from the lack of sleep. Niki, DL, and Micah are currently clustered around the small kitchen table, looking ready to drop. Mohinder and Matt sit across from them, each drinking a glass of milk. Isaac, Claire's dad, and the Haitian are rummaging through cabinets, looking for enough food to feed everyone. Claude and Peter stand against the counter, content to watch the others work, too emotionally drained to help. Peter gives her a smile and a wink when she walks back into the room.

"Em, you look like you're ready to drop but you can't because you're strung out on too much caffeine," Claire laughs as she spots her roommate sitting in a ball on Peter's couch, staring into space. Emily blinks a few times to focus and gives Claire a tired laugh.

"_They_ had no trouble," she says, jerking her thumb to Hiro and Ando, who are leaning against each other and snoring slightly.

"That doesn't surprise me," Claire smirks. "It was a long night."

"Long night? A long night is when you pull an all nighter studying. Long night is a major understatement. I was scared to death about you. And now, the adrenaline's wearing off. I'm crashing," yawns Emily and Claire walks over to put her arms around her, stroking her hair.

"I love you Em," she whispers.

Emily sniffles a little. "Love you too."

Claire sits there for a few more minutes and can feel her eyelids getting heavy. She forces herself to get off the couch and goes into the kitchen where there are far too many people. She hops up on the counter to save space. Peter wanders over to her and settles between her legs, leaning his arms on Claire's thighs. She leans forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to his ear and watches Isaac mix pancake batter and the Haitian expertly fry bacon.

"I'm impressed," she declares. "Most days, we just have cereal."

"We?" her father inquires with a raised eyebrow and she exchanges a nervous look with Peter. Claude snickers next to them, remembering the embrace he found them in a few days ago.

"Me and Claire," Emily covers, wandering into the kitchen. She stretches her arms above her head and shakes her head to wake herself. "Is there any coffee in this joint? Isn't anyone else as tired as I am?"

Micah gets up and taps the coffee machine twice. Shortly, the aroma of coffee fills the apartment and Niki picks her head up from the table. "God bless you Micah," she mumbles into her arms.

"Holy crap," Emily says. "That is the sweetest trick ever. Quick, someone else show me their power."

Claire looks at her dad. "It's ok, Claire-bear," he says to her. "I'm here as your dad. Promise."

Claire relaxes and watches, amused, as Matt reads Emily's thoughts. "2,914."

"Whoa," Emily's face lights up. "Can you control it? Or do just hear everything anyone thinks?"

"I used to hear everything. I've gotten better at it now, I can control it. I try to be respectful and only use it if I have to. I do hear strongly felt thoughts without warning though," Matt shoots Peter an amused look. _Cool it_, he thinks at him. _Both of her dads are right there. And I'm happy she's safe too but I don't want to know about what you want to do to celebrate_.

_Haha_, laughs Peter to Matt. _Sorry man_.

Emily gets up to get herself a cup of coffee. "Peter, do you have any sugar?" Peter points to the top shelf of the cabinet but Emily's not tall enough. He uses his telekinesis to open it and floats a few packets down to Emily's outstretched hand.

"Whoa," Emily breaths. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this," she sighs as she pours a sugar packet into her coffee. "Hey, DL, can you reach into the fridge and get me the milk? And can you use your power, if possible?"

DL gives her an amused look and phases his hand in and pulls out the milk. Emily accepts it gratefully. "Too cool," she murmurs. "Claire, how come you never told me you had such fun friends? Or a father that can turn invisible? I always thought you were friends with them because they're cute," she says, looking at the sleeping Ando. "Now I know better. Or better yet – how come you didn't at least tell me that you had a power?"

Claire chuckles. "What was I supposed to say, Em? Hi, I'm Claire Bennet, I'm from Texas, I'm thinking of majoring in genetics, and by the way, I can regenerate at will?"

"Well, you would have had the most original introduction to a roommate ever," Emily muses.

Claire snags a piece of bacon from the plate the Haitian is passing around and smiles around at the strange group eating breakfast in Peter's kitchen. It's the same group as always, except her best friend is here and her bio-dad and finally her adopted father knows the truth and he understands and that was a burden she didn't know was holding her down. She feels light and happy and content. Peter squeezes her knee, eliciting a giggle from her. "Not original," Claire corrects. "Extraordinary."


End file.
